


A Safe Place

by foryouandbits



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (Not Jack or Bitty), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Canon typical alcohol use, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Hunting, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: Bitty is a freshman on the Samwell Men's Hockey Team. It's been a rough start to his college hockey career: he can't take a check, it's hard to relate to his teammates, and his captain hates him. Just when he decides he's not cut out for this sort of thing, he's saved from the embarrassment of quitting by the end of the world. Bitty, along with his only two friends Ransom and Holster, that captain, and a few others are forced to work together to survive. To quote one B. Shitty Knight: "Rise and shine motherfuckers. It's the zombie apocalypse."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the third fan art in [ this post](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980211) by [allowaykirk](https://allowaykirk.tumblr.com/) from 'Swawesome Santa 2017.
> 
> Just a quick note - this is a story about the zombie apocalypse, so violence is going to occur and characters will die. I promise a happy ending, though! ~~Wait you just said characters will die how will this end happily~~

In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea to bring a pie to the kegster. Eric Bittle blamed the decision on his own naive excitement. This was his first college party, his first social interaction with his new teammates, and he wanted to make a good impression. Pie made everyone happy. Pie made everyone love him. In reality, however, two sophomores named Ransom and Holster took the tin right out of his hands, replaced it with beer in a red solo cup, and then proceeded to scoop the contents directly into their faces.

"Oh man, Bitty, this pie is so fucking good," said Ransom or Holster. They hadn't explained who was who. It didn't seem to matter, though, because they operated as a unit while they ate the entire pie right there in the hallway while music blared through speakers from a room deeper in the house. Eric, or Bitty he supposed, glanced behind them. The rest of the team was in the house but Ransom and Holster blocked his way further inside.

A pecan hit him in the face. He wiped it away and it fell to the floor, along with probably an eighth of the rest of the pie which had slipped between fingers as it was transferred with haste into wide mouths. Bitty looked at who he thought was Ransom, maybe, who wore a white backwards snapback and had filling splattered all the way up to his sharp cheekbones. 

"Goddamn," said Ransom when he noticed Bitty looking. "Did you make this? This doesn't look store bought."

Bitty nodded.

"This is amazing," said Holster. "It tastes like innocence."

"How does something taste like innocence?" Bitty asked.

"That's exactly what I mean," said Ransom. He shoved a last handful of pie into his mouth, proceeded to lick his fingers clean, and then placed his other arm around Bitty's shoulders to lead him into the house. "You should drink up, little frog. This is your only chance to get completely shitfaced before conditioning starts, and I don't recommend drinking during that. It's like the fricken Russian Gulags before classes begin. Prepare to be the sorest you've ever been in your life."

Bitty remembered preparing with his coach Katya for the Junior Regional Championship when he was still in high school and couldn't possibly imagine hockey conditioning to be worse than that. Katya was actually Russian. Ransom and Holster were large and intimidating, but had the presumptuous look of boys who didn't understand how hard figure skating was.

He took a sip of his beer. It wasn't great.

Holster threw the pie tin frisbee style into the kitchen as they passed it, where it hit someone in the back of the head. Bitty turned at the sound of a shout but Ransom urged him forward, straight through the house and to the backyard. Bitty had been very briefly introduced to everyone during orientation that morning, but he couldn't remember names, especially considering everyone went by nicknames and most of those did not make sense. There were four boys in the backyard playing beer pong on a folding table that had been placed unsteadily on the unmowed lawn.

"Shits, Hardty, move aside, we have a teeny tiny frog who we need to get absolutely shwasted," said Holster to the boys. As he spoke, Holster picked up Bitty by the forearms and held him out, Lion King style, to the group as a whole. A man with a mustache and long brown hair grabbed an even larger man and they both moved out of the way. Holster set Bitty down at the end of the table, facing two other players who had not been named. Ransom and Holster hovered close behind him, and he presumed it was so he would not run away, which was all Bitty wanted to do. Bitty was fast but a tall fence enclosed the backyard and it would be difficult to make it back through the house without being caught. Bitty decided it would be best to just enjoy himself. He looked back at Ransom and Holster, who seemed to notice for the first time that they had pie all over their faces, and were currently wiping it off for each other.

That was the last Bitty remembered of his first ever college party. In the morning he woke up to the sound of his alarm and groaned loudly. His head pounded, his stomach churned, and it was not even daylight. Ransom and Holster were right; this was like the Russian Gulags. He did not feel awake or even really fully alive as he brushed his teeth. He dragged his feet across campus as the sun began to rise and then flopped into the locker room with the rest of the team. They all looked the same, a bunch of half-dead hockey players attempting to wake up from the first kegster of the year. It was not the way Bitty intended to start his college hockey career, but when he collapsed into the stall that had been assigned to him the day before, he did not care much about appearances.

"Bro," said Holster from his right. Bitty looked up. "You look like a zombie."

"I feel like a zombie," said Bitty.

Ransom rubbed both of his eyes with his fists as he sat down in his stall between Holster and Shitty. Holster and Ransom made sense, now that Bitty could see their last names on the placards above them, but Bitty had absolutely no idea how they got Shitty from B. Knight, and did not have the energy to think more about it. He instead took out the brand new gear from his Samwell Hockey bag and began to put it on.

His stomach churned and he couldn't tell if it were due to nerves, his hangover, or both. He swallowed hard and looked up to see Jack, the captain, enter the room for the first time. Jack did not look hungover. Jack looked like he had been awake for hours and already hit the gym prior to practice. He walked with his back so straight he might have had a rod stuck up his ass. He looked at everyone with judgy eyes and a scowl on his lips. When his ice blue eyes landed on Bitty, his pupils turned to pinpricks.

"Bittle," he said. "Those shin guards are way too big."

Bitty looked down at his little legs and the shin guards the trainer had picked out for him. He was aware that they were too big for him. He hanged his head and mumbled a reply.

"What?" Jack asked.

"These are the smallest size we have," he replied.

"Then you need to bulk up," Jack said.

Jack sat two seats to the left of Bitty. While there was another nameplate between them, no one sat there after the rest of the team filed in and geared up. Bitty could feel Jack's presence as he put every piece of equipment on his body; his pants, his socks, his shoulder pads, elbow pads, wrist guards, gloves… every item was punctuated by a glance by the team captain, as if every item were wrong.

Jack didn't say anything else, though, so after Bitty finished lacing his skates, he stomped as delicately as possible toward the ice, stick in hand. Bitty had never been on ice of this caliber before. He'd visited a handful of schools and seen the rinks their hockey teams used, and if Bitty hadn't already been sold on Samwell after the campus tour, Faber sold it for him. The sunlight streamed through the wall of windows, shining off the bright white ice and reflecting into every corner of the stands. This was a real hockey rink for a real hockey team. Bitty was part of a real hockey team.

The euphoria of his first practice lasted for about thirty minutes, just through warm ups. Coach Hall and Coach Murray explained a drill intended to judge which of the forwards worked best together. Bitty skated on the right wing of a line consisting of Jack and Shitty. Once he received the puck from Jack, Ransom and Holster came for him and that was the end of it. Two of the largest players on the team stared him down, their intent to physically remove him from the puck, and Bitty collapsed onto the center line, holding his stick and shaking everywhere.

This was not how he expected his first practice to go, and it didn't get better from there. On Thursday, Ransom and Holster were assigned to walk him home halfway through practice after yet another blackout. Bitty sat in his stall, fighting back tears, while he, Ransom, and Holster silently removed their gear. The rest of the team would stay on the ice for two more hours.

Bitty had just put on his tennis shoes when Jack entered the locker room. Bitty looked up. Jack walked right through the S on the floor to get into Bitty's sightline.

"Bro, fine," said Ransom.

"I don't know what your problem is, Bittle," said Jack. He looked so much larger than usual with his gear on. His body blocked all light and Bitty sat in shadow in his stall. Bitty hunched into himself and looked at the floor instead of at Jack. "I need you to get over it. Do you know how close we were to the championship last year? We lost a fantastic right wing and somehow replaced him with you. I don't know what you have to do to get your head in the game, but you need to do it right now. Today."

"Jack, what the fuck," said Holster. "He's just a frog."

"We have other frogs on the team who can take a check without passing out. We have other frogs who are good."

Holster stood, blocking even more light. Bitty closed his eyes.

"He's good, Jack," said Holster. "Get your head out of your ass and you'll see it. He's fast. He's got great puck control. He scored on Johnson twice already."

"Doesn't matter. As soon as the opposition sees he's scared he'll never get the chance." Heavy footsteps stomped away. Bitty opened his eyes; Jack was gone and Ransom and Holster were staring at him.

"Bitty," said Ransom quietly. "You're good."

"Don't let that asshole get to you," said Holster. "I watched your shooting drills. Coach Murray saw them too. You were amazing."

"Can I just go home now?" Bitty asked quietly.

Ransom and Holster exchanged a look that made Bitty feel even smaller than he was. Bitty stood and hoisted his gear bag over his shoulder. The others did the same.

 

***

 

Bitty somehow made it to the weekend without losing his spot on the team and was called with the rest of the frogs to the house (or  _ Haus _ , as it was spelled in the group chat) at ten o'clock on Saturday. He stood awkwardly with Ollie, Wicky, and two other frogs whose names Bitty had yet to learn. Shitty stood at the top of the steps with his hands on his hips, effectively blocking them from entering. He wore dark sunglasses and a T-shirt depicting a Christmas tree smoking a joint. Bitty hadn't spoken to Shitty much, but that did not stop Shitty from talking to him during team breakfasts and at practice.

"Is this everyone?" Shitty asked. He peered at the five of them over the top of his sunglasses. "All right. Good morning, frogs. You, the uninitiated of the Samwell Hockey Team, have the distinct and unparalleled honor of entering, for the very first time, our humble abode:  _ The Haus. _ "

Bitty raised his hand as if to interject, since actually they had all been in the Haus during the kickoff Kegster before Monday's conditioning started, but decided it would be best not to correct Shitty.

"The decisions you will make in this house will be regretful but glorious. The alcohol you will drink will be cheap, but plentiful. And the loss of virginity you may experience within these walls will range from reassuring to emotionally damaging. Now get in here already."

Bitty followed the group into the Haus. He didn't remember very much of it; he'd mostly seen the front hallway and the backyard before the beer pong tournament took the rest of his memory. The Haus did not smell good. It was entirely possible that no one had ever cleaned it. It had the musty sort of scent that occurred when the windows were never opened, but more than that Bitty could smell garbage and dirty laundry. He didn't know what he had expected from a repurposed frat house.

As he dawdled at the front door he realized he'd fallen behind the rest of the team. Shitty was still talking: "And for the love of Christ, try to remember the layout of the Haus for Haze-a-palooza. You'll need to know it naked, blindfolded, and bitch-ass shitfaced."

Bitty vaguely registered the words  _ naked _ and  _ bitch-ass shitfaced _ when he noticed the kitchen. It was messy like the rest of the house but it had all the necessary appliances, which was more than Bitty could say for the sorry excuse of a kitchen in his dorm. That kitchen was functional, but this was  _ his  _ Haus, and he could come make a pie at two o'clock in the morning if so chose.

He wandered inside. The sink was full of dishes and a keg had been left on top of the table with half-full red solo cups. Bitty picked through some of the mess to get a look at the oven; full-sized and rarely used. It looked old. Bitty investigated the cabinets, but apart from thirty bottles of sriracha and a handful of badly cleaned pots and pans, there wasn't much to work with. He had the very basics he needed, though, and there was some butter in the fridge. Before he even knew it, he had a clean counter, a couple of mixing bowls, and the beginnings of a pie.

The pie was just about done when Bitty realized that he hadn't seen anyone else for a long time. The Haus was quiet, so the tour group must have gone upstairs. Bitty glanced at the time; two more minutes. He'd just wait until the pie was out of the oven and run up to join them, and hopefully it wasn't a fineable offense to disappear during the first official Haus tour. The timer went off. Bitty had just opened the oven when he heard voices. It sounded like Ransom and Holster.

He turned around and immediately attempted to make his body as small as possible; Ransom and Holster stood in the kitchen doorway along with the rest of the tour group. 

"Oh," said Bitty and he laughed nervously. "Hey everyone."

"Is that pie?" Ransom asked.

"We've been here for five minutes," said Shitty.

"Sometimes when I get in kitchens pies appear," said Bitty and he laughed again. "Does anyone want a slice?"

"YES I DO," replied Holster. Bitty set the pie on the counter and before he could attempt to look for a knife, Holster had one in hand and began to cut up slices for the congregation at the door. Between the frogs, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster, the pie disappeared in about three minutes. Just as Bitty picked up the metal dish to wash it in the sink, Jack appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, Jack!" said Bitty with a squeak. "I didn't know you were home."

"What's that?" Jack asked, nodding to the the pie plate in Bitty's hand.

"Oh." Bitty felt the heat in his face as he realized he had nothing to offer Jack. "It was pie. The boys ate it all. I wish I knew you were home; I'd have left you a slice --"

"We're in the middle of conditioning. Nobody should be eating pie," said Jack. He then looked at several cases of beer which had been left haphazardly in the hallway. He scowled at it and then left as quickly as he arrived.

"All right boys, that concludes your Haus tour. There may be a quiz later, so remember everything I taught you," said Shitty and then he ran out of the room after Jack.

"Oh no," said Bitty. "I missed the whole tour."

"Nah, bro, you're fine," said Holster. "You'll just need to get to our room after initiation to get your official Samwell -- OOF!" Holster stopped speaking when Ransom decked him in the stomach.

"Don't ruin the surprise!" scolded Ransom.

Bitty walked back to his dorm with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground. He hadn't expected to miss the entire tour, which sounded important, and managed to upset Jack even more than usual. He'd been so excited to join this team and play this sport, and yet as he climbed the empty stairs to his dorm room, he just dreaded the next time he would have to wake up and see them all again.

He took a nap and ate dinner in the dining hall in the basement of the dorm, then returned to his room to discover a missed call from his mother. He changed into his pajamas before he called her back.

"Hey, Mama," he said.

"Well that doesn't sound like a very happy hello," said Suzanne on the other end of the line. "Is everything okay, sweetie?"

Bitty looked down at his gear bag which he'd placed under the window to air out. Just five days of conditioning and it smelled horrendous; Bitty could only imagine how it would smell if he kept this up. He frowned and could feel tears well in his eyes as he continued to look at the bag. Maybe they wouldn't even let him keep it up.

"I don't know if I made the right choice," said Bitty quietly. "Playing hockey."

"Oh, honey, you love hockey! You've been working toward this for years. What happened?"

Bitty ignored the first thought that crossed his mind:  _ Jack Zimmermann happened _ .

"It's just… I don't think I'm cut out for it. Hockey at this level is so much different than hockey back home, and I knew it would be, but I didn't realize how different it would be."

"Dicky," said Suzanne firmly. "It's been one week. You haven't even played a game yet. If you still feel this way after the first game then that's your decision, and I support you, but give it a fair chance."

Bitty placed his head in his hand and stared at the faux wood of his desk. There was another elephant in the room that he didn't want to bring up: the possibility that he might be cut from the team prior to the first game. That would be the best outcome out of all of this, really. Being cut from the team would mean he could keep his scholarship. Quitting meant he'd lose it.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied.

"It'll get better. You just need to get used to it."

Suddenly there was a loud knock on his bedroom door and Bitty jumped.

"Oh my God," Bitty said, his hand to his chest to calm his beating heart.

"What?" Suzanne asked.

"There's someone at the door, hold on, Mama…"

Before Bitty could answer the door, it exploded open and two tall figures in old school hockey masks entered. Bitty shouted in surprise only to realize that they were clearly Ransom and Holster and he should have expected this based off what Shitty had said during the tour that morning. Ransom grabbed Bitty's phone and hung it up while Holster stuffed a dark pillowcase over his head, and together they picked him up and carried him out of the room.

 

***

 

After being stripped of everything but his underwear, Bitty was dumped unceremoniously onto the ice at Faber in between Ollie and Wicky. His hands were tied together in front of him with stick tape. He blinked a few times and looked around; he knelt in a line with the rest of the frogs. They also wore nothing but their underwear and Bitty couldn't help but feel self-conscious; everyone else was so much bigger than him.

The rest of the team stood on the ice as well; Ransom and Holster had already reached into a cooler for beer. Shitty sat on a second cooler, wearing his hockey pants and no shirt, but directly in front of Bitty stood John Johnson the goalie, his face covered with his mask. Unlike Shitty, he was fully clothed.

"Brothers," Johnson began. "The time has come for you to leave the land of the unlearned and join us on the other side. Until this moment we have not known you, and you have not known us. We were merely unnamed strangers brought together by the desire to play this beautiful sport known as hockey. What you do not know, however, is how important this night will be as a means to bond us together eternally, for tomorrow the world will change, and it will be more important than ever that we stay together in order to survive."

"Bruh, can you just get to the part where we make them howl and get them wasted?" Shitty asked.

"This is important, Brother Knight --"

"Don't 'Brother Knight' me, we're not a fraternity."

"We are closer than a fraternity," said Johnson. "We will survive what is coming if we know how to act as a team."

"You're making it sound like they're all going to die," said Shitty. "Bros, you're not going to die. You will get extremely drunk and then Monday we'll all play hockey. Look, you're scaring Bitty."

Bitty felt more confused than scared, and most of all, he felt very, very cold. His whole body shivered and his knees were numb. Shitty stood and pushed Johnson out of the way.

"Listen up, bros. You, the uninitiated of the Samwell Men's Hockey team, are about to endure the ritual that binds us all together, but first, you are all entirely too sober to understand what is about to happen. Brah -- the beer."

Despite the build up of the so-called ceremony by both Shitty and Johnson, and the terrifying way in which Bitty had been escorted to Faber, the initiation itself was not much more than drinking a lot of cheap beer, howling on command, and getting hit on the ass a few times with the blade of a hockey stick. Holster blindfolded Bitty, and Ransom placed both hands on Bitty's shoulders to lead him back to the Haus, still in his underwear.

It was chilly outside, but considerably warmer than Faber had been. Bitty was glad he was blindfolded, however, since he was still barefoot and mostly naked when they left the rink. He couldn't see through the blindfold but from the mutterings of the other frogs, it was apparent they were headed back to the Haus.

"Man, where is everybody?" Ransom asked. "This is only fun when other people see it."

"It's, like, eerily quiet out here," replied Holster. "Frat row is usually swarming with parties this time of night."

Apart from the rest of the team, Bitty could hear nothing from campus. Even the crickets seemed to be quiet. It was as if they hadn't actually left Faber and were instead walking in circles around the equipment room, but the breeze and the pavement under his bare feet signalled they were outside.

"Watch out for stairs," said Ransom quietly. Bitty took a careful step forward and felt the wood of the porch in front of him. He successfully entered the Haus without falling on his face, but then Ransom's hands let go. The Haus was warm, but Bitty felt cold all of a sudden. His hands were still tied but he hugged himself the best he could, awaiting direction. He could sense warm bodies near him but felt alone.

"In the attic you will be able to free yourself from your binds. It's up to you to get yourself there. You are in the front hallway of the Haus. Get your ass there and join the party."

Bitty had no idea how to get to the attic. He had no idea where the stairs were. He heard footsteps from the rest of the frogs and listened hard for their direction. He fumbled forward and ran into someone right away.

"Dude!" said Wicky. "Calm your ass!"

"Sorry, sorry!" said Bitty.

Behind him Ransom and Holster both laughed. Now that Bitty knew Wicky was within reach, he kept a hand on Wicky's back and used him as a guide. A crash of bodies ahead caused a roar of laughter from the team; someone must have found the stairs already.

It actually wasn't difficult to find the attic with Wicky in front of him. They stumbled a few times but never actually fell over, and once Bitty climbed the second set, he pushed the blindfold off his face. Ollie and Wicky had already removed their blindfolds and Ollie was cutting off Wicky's restraints with a pair of scissors. Wicky in return cut off Ollie's and then Bitty's.

A cooler of beer sat in the middle of the messy room. Ransom and Holster had not bothered to clean their dirty laundry, textbooks, hockey gear, and cereal bowls off the floor. Bitty sidestepped a bowl half full of milk to get to the cooler. He took out a can of beer and then headed back to the stairs and that's when he saw it: pinned to the railing was his official Samwell Men's Hockey jersey, complete with his name and number. Bitty felt tears well in his eyes as he picked it up and hugged it close to his chest.

"I guess that means we're legit now, huh?" said Ollie.

Ollie, Wicky, and the others picked up their jerseys from the railing. Bitty had already put his on. It was a little large, since it was meant to be worn over his gear, but it was  _ his _ . He grabbed his beer and ran down the stairs.

Most of the doors on the second floor were open; the bathroom looked like it had never been cleaned. Shitty's room was messy but not dirty. Bitty peered down the hall at the other two doors; one was open and the other shut. There was no question who lived behind the closed door. Bitty decided not to explore and instead continued down the stairs to the first floor.

The team broke out into applause at the sight of him. Ransom and Holster rushed forward and picked him up again, this time in celebration. Bitty's beer splashed all over them and the floor, but no one seemed to notice it. Once Ransom and Holster set him on the ground again, Bitty looked down at himself; although he'd put on his jersey, he was still in his underwear.

"Can I have some pants?" he asked.

"Nope!" yelled Shitty. "If you care about pants, you clearly have not had enough to drink. To the keg!"

"TO THE KEG!" yelled the rest of the group and Bitty groaned as Ransom lifted him once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up!
> 
> Also TW: brief mention of sexual assault at the beginning of this chapter. It doesn't actually happen but if that's a trigger for you, skip the first section of this one.

Bitty awoke and before he even opened his eyes could tell that he was extremely hungover. As he lifted his hand to place it on his forehead, he felt as if he were made of lead. He groaned and shifted; every part of his body hurt. That was not unusual this week, since he had awoken sore every single day, but this was a different type of hurt, the kind associated with sleeping in an awkward position for far too long. His legs extended at different angles and different heights and it felt as if he had a metal rod under his back.

He opened his eyes. It was not a metal rod. It was Ollie's arm. He was on the concrete floor in the basement on top of Ollie and Wicky as if the three of them had been thrown down the laundry chute after they'd drunk themselves to oblivion. He had never acquired pants.

Bitty carefully sat up, mindful of his pounding head. Neither Ollie nor Wicky awoke even after he untangled himself from them. They did however shift closer together when he began his way to the stairs. It took much longer than usual to climb them.

It was still fairly early -- only nine o'clock -- so Bitty was not surprised that he was the only one awake in the Haus. He did not want to cross the entire campus mostly naked so he trudged up two more flights of stairs to Ransom and Holster's room. They were both sound asleep in their beds, so Bitty quietly opened dresser drawers until he found a T-shirt and sweatpants. Both were much too large for him so he rolled the pants several times at the waist and the cuffs. He removed his jersey, folded it, and set it on top of the dresser for safekeeping. He slid his feet into Holster's sandals before he returned to the first floor. 

He was both queasy and hungry, but since he'd been dumped into the Haus in nothing but his underwear, it would be a long ordeal to get back into his dorm room without his ID. He decided to scope out the food situation in the kitchen before he attempted that process. The refrigerator was mostly full of beer and condiments, but there were enough eggs and cheese for omelets, so he pulled them out to make breakfast. As he did, he heard shuffling behind him. Jack and Shitty entered the kitchen; Shitty looked as bad as Bitty felt. Jack looked his normal scowly self.

"Bittle," Jack said. "What're you still doing here?"

"I somehow ended up in the basement," said Bitty. Shitty snorted a laugh.

"So you just decided to make breakfast?" Jack asked.

"Yes," said Bitty. "Would you rather I leave?"

"Nah, man, stay and make us breakfast," said Shitty. "Did you put the coffee on?"

Bitty hadn't, so Shitty sought to it while Bitty searched for a skillet. There was only one and, surprisingly, it was made of cast-iron. Bitty held it up with both hands. "Is this the only skillet you have?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Shitty.

"I'd never guess y'all'd've had a cast iron skillet."

"What did you just say?" Jack asked. Bitty turned around and felt his cheeks flush. He had no idea which part of the sentence offended Jack.

"I never would have guessed y'all'd've --" Jack's face screwed up so badly that Bitty had to clamp his mouth shut to prevent a laugh.

"What does that even mean?" Jack asked.

Bitty turned back to the sink and placed the skillet under the water. "I'm sorry. I never would have guessed  _ you all would have had _ a cast iron skillet. These things can be expensive."

"It's always been here," said Shitty. Bitty resumed rinsing gunk off the skillet and hummed lightly to himself as he looked out the window. As he looked outside he noticed a young woman running down the sidewalk across the street. It was clearly a walk of shame, since she still had on party clothes and heels. It seemed weird that she was running, though, but just as quickly as she came into view so did a young man dressed in a pink polo and golf shorts. He was several yards behind her but seemed to be keeping pretty good pace despite her haste. She probably should have removed her shoes.

The woman looked behind her and screamed. Bitty could hear her high-pitched voice through the closed window.

"Oh my God," said Bitty. "I think that guy is assaulting that girl."

"Where?" Shitty asked immediately. Bitty gestured outside. Shitty took one look before he ran out of the kitchen and toward the door. Bitty grabbed the skillet and followed.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SHIT BIRD?" Shitty yelled. He was halfway across the lawn before Bitty realized the pink-poloed frat bro was not the only one outside. At least half a dozen men were following this girl, but not all of them looked to be in great physical shape. One of them, near the back of the pack, was dragging his left leg. He wore jeans but even so, it appeared as though his foot was not completely connected to his calf.

"Um, Shitty?" Bitty asked. "I don't think they're okay."

Shitty paused at the front sidewalk and watched the pack of frat bros as they followed the running woman.

None of the men spoke. Some of them were missing chunks of their arms, legs, and torsos. One of them noticed Shitty and changed direction toward him. Bitty hurried forward as the frat bro approached; his skin had a greenish tint to it and his mouth hung open. His eyes were cloudy and did not focus. He had a noticeable bite mark on his bicep.

"Are you okay?" Shitty asked.

The frat bro did not reply. He reached out to Shitty, drooling and kind of groaning, and clamped his hand tight onto Shitty's arm.

"Bruh, what the fuck? Let go of me."

The frat bro leaned in, his intent clear; he was ready to bite Shitty. Bitty swung the cast iron skillet like a baseball bat and hit the frat bro in the head with a horrible muted CLUNK. The frat bro fell backward onto the ground and didn't move.

"Shitty," said Bitty. "I think this guy is a zombie."

"I… I think you're right," said Shitty. He sounded dazed, as if he couldn't believe the words that had just left his mouth. The rest of the pack continued on, following the woman and taking no heed of Shitty and Bitty. The two of them scrambled back inside and shut the door.

"Jack!" yelled Shitty. "We need to barricade the doors!"

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked. He appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Are you just going to leave that girl outside?"

"Jack, those are  _ zombies _ ," said Bitty. "Honest to goodness zombies."

"I think you two are still drunk," said Jack. He crossed the hallway to the den and grabbed the TV remote from the most disgusting couch Bitty had ever seen. Bitty reached out a hand and poked the green cushion; it was damp. It made him want to vomit.

As soon as Jack turned on the television, emergency broadcast signals blared. The TV had been on ESPN but the programming was blocked and instead a static message displayed:

**AN UNIDENTIFIED VIRAL OUTBREAK HAS OCCURRED IN THE AREA. STAY INDOORS. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. DO NOT ENGAGE ANYONE DEMONSTRATING SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR.**

Jack shut off the television.

"Okay, it's zombies," he said. "Wake the others. We'll need help barricading the doors."

Bitty ran upstairs to politely wake Ransom and Holster. Just as he arrived Shitty's voice echoed through the Haus via a megaphone:

"RISE AND SHINE MOTHERFUCKERS! IT'S THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE."

 

***

 

It took all eight of them to barricade the doors and windows. Johnson unearthed a hammer and nails from the toolbox in the basement; Ransom and Holster zealously destroyed furniture until there was enough wood to cover the windows. Once the Haus had been secured, Bitty made lunch in the kitchen for seven hungry boys who had to sit on the floor since the table had been placed in front of the door.

While the team ate, Bitty searched the cabinets and refrigerator for food. "Y'all, this isn't good," said Bitty. "There are eight of us and we have enough food to last a week at most, and that's if y'all don't eat us out of Haus and home."

"We'll have to ration it," said Jack firmly. "Bittle, are you going to eat?"

Bitty glanced at his omelet on the counter and shook his head.

"Bittle," said Jack again. "Eat the damn omelet."

Bitty ate the omelet quietly. Ollie and Wicky, still in their underwear, stood up from the floor. "I think we should go back to the dorm," said Ollie.

"No," said Jack.

"You kidnapped us and brought us here with nothing. We don't even have clothes," said Wicky. "We have to go back and at least get something to wear."

"No one leaves the Haus," said Jack. "Shitty will give you clothes. He never wears his."

Bitty finished his omelet and collected everyone's dishes. Jack followed Shitty, Ollie, and Wicky up the stairs to give them clothes, leaving Johnson, Ransom, and Holster in the kitchen. Ransom approached Bitty as he began washing dishes at the sink.

"Bitty," said Ransom.

Bitty didn't reply.

"You okay?" Ransom asked.

Bitty nodded.

"If you want to go back to the dorm we'll take you there. You don't have to stay here. I know you don't have anything. You're wearing Holtzy's shoes."

"No, we should stay here," said Bitty. "Who knows what's out there. I'll be fine." Bitty dropped a plate in the sink and it clattered loudly. "Oh my God. My Mama. You kidnapped me while I was on the phone with her -- she must think I was attacked! I have to call her right now. Can I borrow your phone?"

"Here," said Holster and he handed Bitty a phone. Bitty stared at it as he tried to remember his mother's phone number. He didn't. He had no idea what his mother's phone number was. They still had a landline, the same one from when he was a child, so he called that number in the hope that his parents still had it plugged in.

His mother answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Mama!" said Bitty. "Oh good, you're safe. Are you safe? Are the zombies down by you?"

"Dicky!" yelled Suzanne. "Oh my God, I was worried sick. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"There was a hockey thing last night. I couldn't take it with me. I'm okay."

"Oh thank Jesus," said Suzanne. "Stay where you are. Don't go outside. Your father and I are okay for right now but we're leaving in a few minutes to go to your Uncle Jeffrey's cabin. They're saying the outbreak is mostly in metropolitan areas, so we're going to get away from the city."

Bitty didn't know what to say. She and Coach were safe. He, on the other hand, was holed up in a rundown house with seven other hungry men and not enough food. He couldn't go back to the dorm, much less to Georgia. He was stuck in this Haus with a team who hated him and death just outside the door.

"Okay," said Bitty. "Okay, well this is my teammate's phone if you need to call me. I'm glad you're okay."

"Dicky," said Suzanne. "Stay safe."

"You too, Mama. I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Bitty hung up the phone and took in a rattled breath. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but his bed was across a campus full of zombies. Holster took the phone back and placed a hand on Bitty's shoulder.

"Bits," he said solemnly. Bitty frowned. "It'll be okay. You're our frog. We're not going to let anything happen to you."

"Thanks, Holster," said Bitty. "I wish I could go back to my dorm. I'm exhausted."

"Take a nap in my bed," said Holster. "You can sleep up there tonight. We have a lot of extra blankets."

"We may want to wash those blankets before he sleeps on them," said Ransom.

"Ooh, right. Thanks, Rans."

Bitty scrunched his nose. Maybe he didn't want to sleep on the blankets.

He decided to take a nap anyway, carefully inspecting Holster's bed before he climbed into it. He awoke later that afternoon to a shout from the floor below.

"GODDAMMIT!" yelled Shitty's voice. Bitty blinked several times and looked toward the alarm clock on the desk for the time. The display was blank. Bitty reached for the lamp on the desk and attempted to turn it on, but nothing happened. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Shitty appeared in the corridor. "Do you have power?" Shitty asked.

"No," said Bitty.

"Fucking fuck, of course not. Of course we can't even get a day out of it before we're thrust into medieval times. Does your phone still work? I haven't tried calling anyone yet."

"I don't have my phone," said Bitty darkly and he touched the pockets of Ransom's sweatpants as if he expected it to be there. "Somebody kidnapped me without it."

Shitty's expression changed. "Sorry m'dude."

"What time is it?" Bitty asked. Shitty looked at his phone.

"Five o'clock. Dammit, and I'm already at forty percent. This blows." Shitty turned and left the room. Bitty slipped on Holster's sandals again and followed Shitty down the stairs. Just as they reached the second floor landing, Jack exited his room.

"There's a generator in the basement," said Jack. "I don't know how long it'll last but it's something. I think there are candles and flashlights down there too."

The generator looked old but functional. Jack and Shitty carried it up the stairs and into the living room where it took residence next to the hideous green couch. Bitty went into the kitchen and began putting together sandwiches. Between the eight of them he used the entire loaf and half a jar of peanut butter. There was a good amount of other food in the cupboards, but everything needed power to become edible.

"So," said Ransom once everyone congregated in the kitchen again. "How much food do we have left? Realistically?"

"Realistically?" said Bitty. "Maybe a week. Maybe."

"Seriously?" asked Ransom.

"And that's if we eat lean," clarified Bitty. Ransom and Holster shared a look that expressed exactly how Bitty felt; a week was not very long at all and none of them had ever been accustomed to going hungry. "Well maybe y'all shouldn't prioritize beer over food."

"How much beer do we have left?" Holster asked.

"Plenty," said Bitty. 

"APOCALYPSE KEGSTER!" shouted Ransom and Holster in unison and high-fived.

"No more kegsters," said Jack. "This is serious. If the power's already out, it's only a matter of time before the rest of the utilities go too. Does everyone still have service?"

Everyone apart from Ollie, Wicky, and Bitty checked their phones. Bitty touched the pockets of his sweatpants and felt very lonely. It was a stupid thing to miss, especially since there were more important matters at hand, but he missed his phone more than anything else, and seeing the rest of the team with theirs made the feeling intensify exponentially.

"No," said Holster. "And it's almost dead." He threw his phone dramatically across the room and it hit the wall with a clatter.

"Bro, what if the power comes back tomorrow?" asked Ransom.

"The power's not coming back," replied Shitty. "This is how we die. Holed up in the Haus with each other until we run out of food and beer."

"No one's going to die in here," said Jack.

"It's very likely," replied Johnson.

Jack sent Johnson his best glare.

"Okay, but here's the more important question," said Ransom. "When we do run out of food, who are we going to eat first?"

"Jack," said Holster immediately.

"Jack," said Johnson.

"Jack," said Shitty.

"Jack," said Ollie and Wicky together.

Bitty did not reply and watched as Jack's eyes grew in surprise as each of his teammates instantly turned on him.

"What? Why?" Jack asked.

"Look at those ham hocks," said Holster, gesturing to the ample posterior that Jack sat upon. "Of course we're eating you first. We could survive for weeks on those."

"Absolutely not," said Jack. "I'm your captain!"

"And you've got those sweet ham hocks. I don't make the rules," said Holster.

"Stop calling them ham hocks!" yelled Jack. "Nobody is going to eat anybody!"

"Yeah, but if we  _ needed _ to…" said Ransom. Jack stood.

"This is ridiculous. I'm going upstairs. Try not to eat each other while I'm gone."

"I think we made it clear you're the first to go, bro," said Shitty. Jack continued out of the room and Bitty could hear his heavy footsteps up the stairs. The rest of the Haus split up after his departure, leaving Bitty alone in the kitchen. He glanced at the refrigerator. They were pressed for food, yes, but he could scrounge together a decent pie out of what they had left. He just needed the generator.

Bitty crossed the hall; the living room was empty and the generator sat on the floor next to the couch. Bitty grabbed hold of it; it was pretty heavy but moveable, so he dragged it into the kitchen. There was no way it could power the refrigerator, but it would be enough for a gas oven. It took several minutes to figure out how to hook it up, but as the oven preheated Bitty started throwing together his crust.

"What're you doing?"

Bitty turned around sharply. Jack had returned and now stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The sun was set by now and Jack held a candle in his hand. The underlight illuminated his features in an equally sinister and flattering way. Bitty could see the sharp cut of his jaw, the turn of his chin, the shadow of a day's growth of beard on his cheeks. It was a striking sight, but Jack did not look pleased.

"We don't know how long we're going to be here," said Jack indignantly. "We have to ration our food and the generator. Why do you have it hooked up to the oven?"

"The boys have had a hard day," said Bitty. "I wanted to make them something nice."

"The boys? Or you?"

Bitty bit his lip to prevent himself from snapping back.

"Turn the oven off. They don't need pie," said Jack.

"I'm still making the pie," said Bitty. "If you don't want any you can sacrifice your slice for someone else."

Jack stared at Bitty; in the darkness of the hallway and the dim light from the candle, he looked like a wolf in the night waiting for someone to devour. Bitty held his breath, ready for Jack to snap, but then Jack simply nodded.

"Take my candle," he said. He set it on the counter near Bitty. "It's dark. I don't want you to cut yourself."

Jack left without another word.

 

***

 

Despite Bitty's best efforts to keep morale up in the Haus through creative food, eight college boys inside a small, increasingly stinky building started to break down manners. Bitty woke up each morning on Ransom and Holster's hard floor, his body stiff and sore. A full week after the apocalypse began, Bitty awoke in the morning and realized that between he, Ransom, and Holster, there were only two pairs of underwear left.

Ransom and Holster were still asleep. Bitty grabbed one of the clean pairs along with shorts and a T-shirt, then headed down the stairs to the bathroom. He turned on the shower but the water just sputtered and lost pressure immediately.

"Oh no," said Bitty. He turned the handle all the way to the left but it didn't matter. Nothing else came out of the showerhead. He tried the faucet at the sink but the same thing happened; the water sputtered for a moment and nothing else came. "Oh no, oh no."

He ran out of the bathroom and up the stairs.

"Holster. Holster, wake up," said Bitty as he shook Holster in his bed. Holster grumbled and pulled his pillow over his head. "There's no more water!"

"What do you mean there's no more water?" asked Ransom. Bitty looked up; Ransom's head draped over the side of the top bunk.

"There's no more water. The water stopped running," said Bitty. "I didn't think that would happen. Electricity, yes. Cell phone service, yes. Water? We'll be dead in days if we don't have any water."

"There's ice in the chest freezer in the basement," said Holster. "We'll be fine for a while."

Bitty felt the tears leap into his eyes so he covered his face with his hands.

"Bro," said Holster. Bitty felt Holster's hand on his shoulder; while it was meant to be a comforting action, it immediately caused Bitty to burst into sobs.

"How long is a while?" Bitty asked, his voice raw and teary. "A few days? We're going to die here."

"Bits," said Holster. "We're not going to die. Come on, pull yourself together. You're just wasting precious liquid by crying."

Bitty took his face out of his hands and looked at Holster, horrified. Holster shot finger guns at him while grinning toothily.

"Bro," said Ransom. "Not cool."

Bitty wiped at his eyes and quietly walked back down the stairs. He re-entered the bathroom and changed into fresh clothes. He still felt dirty but there was no way to fix his situation, so he left the bathroom and headed downstairs and to the kitchen. The stench of the Haus was starting to get overwhelming, so Bitty carefully opened the window between the boards that had been nailed over it.

The rest of the team would be up eventually and, as usual, would be hungry. The food had slowly been dwindling down along with the clean clothes, so Bitty dreaded opening the cabinets. For every meal so far he'd been able to make something to fill everyone's stomachs, but this time, he stared at a bare cabinet with one tube of oats. 

There was no more water. How was he supposed to make oatmeal with no more water?

Panic settled in. He hopped up onto the counter and began searching the cabinets for any other option -- the bottles of sriracha provided no nutritional value and would just make everyone thirsty. The jar of peanut butter had been scraped clean. Bitty threw it violently into the garbage. Everything else had been eaten. The oatmeal was all that was left.

Bitty hopped down from the counter and opened the refrigerator. Most of the items in the refrigerator had been eaten first, since it wasn't cold any longer. There was still beer, which composed of eighty percent of the refrigerator's contents prior to the apocalypse, but as far as food, the only item remaining was the remnants of a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. It wasn't enough for even one person.

Bitty fell back onto the floor and the refrigerator door closed. Tears returned so he hid his face in the hope that they would go away. This was the end of it. He couldn't even make breakfast. There was no more food and no more water, and he would spend the next few days watching his team die until he himself died too.

"Christ, what now?"

Bitty looked up. Jack had entered the kitchen and looked his usual rude self. Bitty furiously wiped at his eyes; crying in front of Ransom and Holster was one thing, but crying again in front of Jack was something he didn't want to do.

"There's no food," said Bitty.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"There's nothing left!" said Bitty and the volume of his voice rose as he stood from the floor. "We ate everything apart from oatmeal and I can't even make that because there's no more water." Jack crossed the room and tried the sink; nothing happened. He paused, staring at the faucet, before he looked back at Bitty.

"No, there's no water," he said.

"What are we going to do?" Bitty asked.

"I don't know," said Jack, "but sitting on the floor crying about it isn't going to solve anything."

"Why are you being so rude?" Bitty asked. "You're supposed to be the captain. You're supposed to be our leader and yet you hole up in your room and the only time you talk to the rest of us you just snap at everyone. How is that solving anything?"

"I've been in my room because I have stuff to keep me occupied there. What am I supposed to do the rest of the time? Play beer pong in the den or theorize who we're going to eat first when we run out of food? Which, by the way, it looks like we have, so if you guys want to go ahead and kill me then get it over with."

"That was a joke, Jack," snapped Bitty. "No one's going to kill anyone here."

"Sure," said Jack coolly.

"What is your problem?" Bitty asked. "Or is this just who you are? Snapping at poor little frogs who are TERRIFIED of death that is just right outside our house!" Bitty gestured toward the open window.

"I'm sorry if I have no sympathy for you. We're all in the same boat. We're all trying to make it while the world destroys itself around us. There is nothing you can do to stop it but you can change your attitude --"

"You're one to talk about attitude!" Bitty yelled. 

"We're out of food and you've been in here wasting ingredients and power on pie!"

"I had to power the oven or we would have run out of food days ago!"

"We'd still have food if you knew how to ration."

"I'm not letting the boys starve!"

A loud BANG against the front door startled both Jack and Bitty. Subsequent heavy footfalls sounded down the stairs.

"BROS! ZOMBIES!" yelled Shitty from the hallway.

Bitty grabbed the closest weapon he could find, which happened to be the rolling pin he'd washed the night before. Jack grabbed a kitchen knife from the block and the two of them ran into the hallway. Shitty was throwing on clothes. Ollie and Wicky appeared from the den, then Ransom and Holster trampled down the stairs.

"Where are they?" Jack asked.

"Front door," said Shitty.

The seven of them turned slowly toward the front door. The BANG sounded again, as if someone or something was attempting to break through it.

"Why now?" Jack asked. "We've been in here a week."

"Probably had something to do with all the shouting," said Johnson, who appeared at the top of the stairs. "We've been pretty quiet until now."

"Ransom and Holster have been screaming all week," said Jack.

"We have not!" yelled Holster.

The banging intensified. The kitchen table, which had been propped up against the door to reinforce it, began to shake. Jack threw his arm out to the side in front of Bitty and slowly began to back the two of them up. Bitty looked indignantly at the large arm at his chest but otherwise kept his eyes trained on the door.

With another BANG the door cracked open and the kitchen table wobbled unsteadily.

"Should we move the fridge?" Ransom asked quietly.

"We don't know how long they're going to keep at this," said Jack, "and we're out of food."

Another BANG was enough force to knock over the table. With haste, Jack backed Bitty up further. He brandished the kitchen knife and Bitty held tight to his rolling pin. The door opened about six inches and several arms appeared, flailing wildly. A face squeezed through the crack.

"Holy shit, it's a Chad," said Shitty.

Another face appeared.

"It's the LAX bros!" yelled Ransom.

"We have to get out of here," said Jack. "Back door. Over the fence. NOW."

The team turned and ran to the back of the Haus. Ollie and Wicky began pulling furniture away from the door and tossing it carelessly to the side. The banging continued behind them. Daylight filtered into the hallway. Bitty looked over his shoulders; the kitchen table had been forced further inside and now all of the Chads who normally lived in the lacrosse house across the street scrambled into the hallway. Their eyes were pure white and their skin sallow, as if their blood had been drained. Unlike the first zombies Bitty had seen a week prior, none of the Chads seemed to be missing limbs or showed any sort of outward injury. The way they moved, however, was distinctly undead. They dragged their legs rather than pick them up as they ran, but the improper form did not affect their speed. They stared at the hockey team with open, drooling mouths.

"Hurry!" Bitty yelled. "They're inside!"

Ransom and Holster helped remove the final blockade from the back door and then Ransom threw it open. Everyone ran out and across the yard, Ransom and Holster first, followed by Ollie and Wicky, then Jack and Bitty, with Johnson bringing up the rear.

"Out, out, out," yelled Johnson as he held the door for everyone. "Get over the fence."

"Go to Faber!" Jack yelled.

Bitty looked over his shoulder again. The Chads were right behind them, now out of the Haus and into the backyard. Bitty threw his rolling pin over the fence and then launched himself at it. It was much taller than him and he got stuck at the top, the wooden planks digging into his ribs. Jack waited for him on the other side.

"Bitty, get over here," said Jack.

"I can't -- it's too tall!" cried Bitty.

"I got you," said Johnson. Bitty could feel a pair of hands on his feet. They launched him up and over the fence. Bitty fell directly onto Jack with an OOF.

"Oh, Jack, I'm sorry," said Bitty.

"Get off and get to Faber."

Bitty grabbed his rolling pin from the sidewalk and headed off toward Faber, Jack hot on his tail. Despite running at full speed, Bitty finally found his breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Although barefoot, Bitty still led the pack to Faber. It was mid-morning, the sun up and shining brightly. September had just arrived but the coolness of fall had not come with it; it was still warm outside. The shade of the trees around the Haus, along with the boarded windows, had kept their home cool, but now outside he realized just how hot those first few weeks of school could be. Bitty felt sweat beading at his temples as he ran full-out toward the ice rink.

The streets were empty. If he could hear anything more than his beating heart, Bitty would have marvelled in the silence. No passing cars, no kids laughing and walking and yelling at each other on the way to class. No people at all. The apocalypse was quiet.

Bitty threw open the door to the athlete's entrance and bolted inside. He stopped ten feet from the door, his hands tight on the knob of his rolling pin, his eyes scanning the crevices of the hallway. Stairs led up but the hollow underneath them was empty. The doors leading off the hall were all closed. Bitty kept his grip but relaxed his shoulders; there was no immediate threat.

"Are we all in?" Ransom asked quietly. He jumped up three steps to begin counting and quickly frowned. "Six. Who's missing?"

Bitty looked around but everyone crowded together at the door, and all of them were taller than him. He could see Ransom on the stairs, Holster's big head, and Jack at the front. Jack looked at everyone.

"Where's Johnson?" Jack asked.

Bitty felt cold. "He was behind me at the Haus," he said. "He pushed me over the fence."

"Did anyone see Johnson on the way here?" Jack asked.

No one responded. Wicky opened the door a crack and quickly shut it again. "There's no one outside," he said. "He couldn't have fallen that far behind on the way here."

"Did he not make it over the fence?" Ransom asked. "Did anyone see him hop the fence?"

"Oh my God," said Bitty and he put his hand over his mouth. "Oh my God, they got him. He helped me get over the fence and they got him."

Bitty looked at Jack; Jack's normally gruff exterior softened as he placed a hand on Bitty's shoulder.

"It's not your fault," said Jack. "Come on. We need to barricade the exits. There's a lot of them."

They split into two groups: Bitty with Ransom and Holster in one; Jack, Shitty, Ollie, and Wicky in the other. Between the seven of them it took an hour secure the building. The hardest part was locating items heavy enough to block each of the doors that led to the outside. Faber was huge and had a lot of points of egress. Bitty helped the best he could while Ransom and Holster carried the large wooden cases from the equipment room across the building. Once safely inside with each exit barricaded, they entered the locker room and sat in their stalls.

"Do we have a plan?" Bitty asked.

"We stay here as long as we can," said Jack. "Between the lounge and the trainer's room there's enough space to sleep and there should be plenty of food in the kitchens behind the concession stands. I haven't checked for a generator but there's got to be at least one. Bittle -- check out the freezer. If anything is still safe enough to eat we should cook that first. Ransom and Holster, go with him."

Bitty nodded. He looked down at his feet.

"I'm going to find some socks first, at least," he said. "If I take the blade off a skate I could probably finagle a decent pair of shoes."

"Skate blades," said Jack with the wide eyes of realization. "Ollie. Wicky. Shitty and I will search for that generator, but grab sticks and blades from the equipment room and start making weapons." 

"'Swawesome," said Ollie and Wicky simultaneously, and they fist bumped.

"We'll meet you at the sharpener. I want those blades as deadly as possible," said Jack.

"I am so ready to hack off someone's head," said Ollie.

"Calm down. It's just a precaution. If we play our cards right we won't need to hack off anyone's head," said Jack. Ollie frowned. He and Wicky left the locker room muttering to each other about ways to violently remove zombie limbs. Jack and Shitty exited through a different door. Bitty finished rubbing his feet; the pavement wasn't too hot but the streets were very dirty.

"How you doing, Bits?" Holster asked. He clapped Bitty on the back and Bitty shrugged his shoulders. He could still feel Johnson's hands on his legs as he was hoisted over the fence. If Johnson had just hopped over without stopping to help, he'd be with them instead of… Bitty didn't want to think about what probably happened.

"Okay, I guess," said Bitty. "Lemme just find some socks and we'll go to the kitchen."

Bitty grabbed clean socks from the equipment room and a pair of skates in his size. The blade assemblies were still attached so he also picked up a screwdriver and began removing them on the way to the kitchen.

"Do you think the Chads got Johnson?" Holster asked. Bitty pursed his lips together; the question was directed at Ransom .  Bitty was thankful for it because he wasn't sure if he could answer without tears.

"Yeah, bro, he's gone," said Ransom. "Yo, do you think they were really infected? Those LAX bros have just been looking for a reason to kill us."

"I saw their faces," said Bitty quietly. "They were infected."

They scoped out the pantries first; there was enough candy and chips to last weeks, but that was about it for food they could eat without electricity. There were also several bags of unpopped popcorn that Bitty could cook over a fire if push came to shove. "There's a few vending machines that we could break open," said Holster when Bitty lamented the variety of food.

"Yeah, but that selection isn't much better," said Bitty. "At the risk of sounding like Jack, where's the protein?"

"Better than nothing," said Ransom.

None of the food in the refrigerators was useable. The temperature had regulated in each of them and nothing was safe to cook. There were, however, several cases of bottled soda and water, which Bitty was relieved to see. If there was bottled water in the fridge, there was probably more in storage.

The food in the freezer was salvageable, however. The temperature on the outside of the freezers had risen slightly, but not out of the safe zone. Everything was still frozen.

"Perfect," said Bitty. "We'll work through this first. If they find a generator we should use it on the mini fridges at the counter to keep this as cold as possible. The more we open and shut these doors the sooner we'll spoil everything. I'll make these chicken tenders first. I might have to start a fire on the roof but I can at least cook them."

Bitty picked out a package of chicken tenders and they exited the freezer. He set the tenders on the counter to thaw. "Let's see what they found. Ransom, can you grab a case of water and bring it back to the locker room for me?"

Ollie and Wicky were back in the locker room already, surrounded by sticks, blades, and tape. They'd made a few weapons so far. Bitty picked up one stick and looked at the blade attached to the end of it.

"This might work," Bitty said. He stepped away from the others and swung the stick around. The blade wobbled as it cut through the air. "Maybe tape it a little more. It's kind of loose."

"Told you," said Ollie with a smack to Wicky's arm.

"You told me nothing!" replied Wicky with a similar smack. They hit each other for a few minutes before they returned to taping sticks. Bitty sat in his stall and pulled on the skate boots. It felt weird securing his feet into them without the blade, but he could walk around without worrying about falling over.

Jack and Shitty returned a few minutes later each carrying a generator. These were smaller than the one at the Haus, but not so small Bitty worried about their ability to power the portable ovens behind the concession stand counters.

"There's actually a few more," said Shitty. "I think we should be good for a while."

"Nothing really good for light, though," said Jack. "We found two flashlights and extra batteries, but no candles or anything like that."

"We'll just light something on fire," said Ransom with a casual shrug. "How well do urinal cakes burn?"

"Lord, of course you would ask that," said Bitty. "Can I have one of those generators? The food in the freezer's still good so I'll make chicken tenders for lunch."

Jack cracked a smile. It was the first one Bitty had ever seen on him.

"Chicken tenders sound good," said Jack. "Here, you can use this one."

Jack handed Bitty a generator. It was much heavier in Bitty's hands than Jack had made it seem. Bitty headed back to the kitchen while Jack checked out the weapons Ollie and Wicky had made. Just before Bitty left the room, Jack said, "You should use more tape."

It wasn't the best lunch Bitty had ever made, but the chicken tenders were cooked through and everyone had enough to eat and drink. The seven of them sat on or behind the counter as they ate. They all still looked miserable: Ollie and Wicky had scratches on their arms from hopping the fence. Shitty had one sock but had managed at least to put on shoes before they bolted from the Haus. Ransom and Holster were still in their tank tops and underwear. Jack was the only one who looked put together, but Jack's stare was out toward the ice, chewing absent-mindedly. Bitty hoped he wasn't thinking about Johnson.

"Bits, you get those socks from the equipment room?" Shitty asked.

Bitty stopped looking at Jack.

"Yeah," he said.

"I'm going to get me some and see what else is over there."

"Me too," said Ollie. "No offense, Shits, but your style is whack." Ollie was wearing Shitty's stoned Christmas tree shirt. 

"My style is perfect. You're whack, frog," said Shitty. Ollie followed Shitty down the hall. Wicky stuffed the rest of his last chicken tender in his mouth and jogged after them.

"Do you think we can turn on the cotton candy machine?" Ransom asked.

"Ransom," scolded Bitty. "Cotton candy is the opposite of essential. If you want sugar you have chocolate bars right there." Ransom looked sadly at the chocolate bar in front of him. "Ransom. No."

"But --"

"No, Rans," said Jack. "Eat the chocolate."

Jack hopped off the counter and headed toward the ice. Bitty looked at Ransom and Holster, who were silently plotting their move on the cotton candy machine. Bitty didn't want to deal with telling them no again, so he jumped the counter and followed Jack down toward the player benches. Once Bitty reached the top of the stands he paused; Jack had reached the ice, or, at least, what once had been ice.

Bitty took one step down as Jack opened the door from the bench and stepped onto the rink. He paused, his knee bent, one foot in a pool of water up to his ankle. Even from this distance, Bitty could see the defeat in Jack's posture. His shoulders hunched forward and his head hanged. He dropped his face into a hand and then stood still as a statue, the water from their melted rink slowly seeping into his pantleg.

Bitty cautiously approached. Jack hadn't moved.

"Jack?" Bitty whispered.

Jack looked over. His eyes were red and wet. Bitty dropped his own shoulders as well as his hands, which had been extended toward Jack in an aborted attempt to comfort him. This was not the expression Bitty was accustomed to seeing on Jack's face. Jack was not a sorrowful man. He was taciturn and rude. Jack yelled at Bitty for crying.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Jack replied, his voice barely audible.

"Yes," replied Bitty.

Jack wiped his eyes as he looked around the rink. He had yet to remove his foot from the water. Bitty stared at him instead of following his gaze; there was nothing good here. Everything had been spoiled, and everything the team had been founded upon had been ruined.

"This is all I know how to do," said Jack.

"Jack --" Bitty reached forward and placed one hand on Jack's arm. As soon as their skin made contact, a loud CLANG sounded from the concession booths. The sound resonated around the rink, echoing into the rafters. Jack and Bitty's attention snapped toward the concourse. Bitty looked quickly back at Jack; his tears were gone.

"Get to the locker room," said Jack. "Grab a weapon. Can you run in those boots?"

"Yes," said Bitty.

"Go."

Bitty turned and ran. He picked up his rolling pin from the floor in the locker room. Shitty, Ollie, and Wicky were there already, each holding a hockey stick spear.

"What is it?" Ollie asked.

"I don't know, but I'll give you three guesses," said Bitty. "How many sticks we got?"

"Plenty," said Shitty and he gathered four sticks in his hands. Between Ollie, Wicky, and Bitty, they grabbed the remaining spears from the ground and headed out the door to find the rest of the team. They ran into Ransom and Holster in front of the concession booth where they'd had lunch. Each carried a wad of pink cotton candy and looked very sheepish.

"It was just us," said Ransom. "Holster tried to sit on the counter and knocked over the pretzel display. Sorry. Sorry everyone --"

Another CLANG sounded from the entrance; that was not just a display falling over.

"Where's Jack?" Bitty asked.

"Here," said Jack. Bitty turned; Jack ran down the concourse, leaving one wet footprint in his wake. Shitty threw a stick to him, which he caught, and they headed toward the athlete's entrance.

"What if something else fell over?" Ransom asked.

"I'm not taking any chances," said Jack. "This place is too big to know that we're safe. We need to go somewhere else."

"We should grab food first," said Bitty.

"No time," said Jack. "Let's get out of here."

They bolted down the hallway. Shitty and Jack reached the door first and began removing the barricades from it. Jack visibly hesitated before he placed his hands on the door. He cracked it open and peered out onto the driveway.

"Nothing this way. Let's go."

They ran down the driveway and onto the street. Jack led the pack but it was clear within seconds that he didn't have a destination.

"Where are we going?" Bitty called.

"I don't know," replied Jack.

They kept running. After a block Bitty had caught up to Jack.

"We should go to a grocery store," Bitty said. Jack shook his head. "Why not? There's no food, Jack. We have a couple of hockey sticks and a rolling pin."

"How far are we going to run?" Wicky called from the back of the pack. "I'm getting tired."

"We've been running for three blocks!" Ollie said to him.

"I'm still tired!" Wicky said back.

Jack stopped and turned around. Everyone else quickly halted as well, but Ollie and Wicky were still pushing each other.

"Ollie. Wicky. Stop it," Jack said. His voice was quiet but it cut through the empty street. Ollie and Wicky dropped their hands. "We shouldn't be making so much noise. The Chads attacked us because they heard Bittle and me yelling in the kitchen. We had to leave Faber because Holster knocked over the pretzel display."

"I apologized for that," said Holster.

"Actually, Ransom apologized for that," said Jack. "We have to be quiet or we're going to draw their attention."

"Fuck, we're all going to die," said Wicky.

"We need to get off the street," continued Jack. "Find somewhere we can camp out for the night and strategize for our long-term plan. There's too many people around and we don't know how many of them are infected."

"I vote grocery store," said Bitty.

Jack shook his head again. "Other survivors are going to think grocery store too. I don't want to risk running into someone else. We can't control their behavior."

"Now this is just a thought," said Shitty, "but we don't know how bad this is. We could be the only idiots left in the world. Shouldn't we try to find at least one female so we can repopulate the planet?"

From the way Ollie and Wicky looked at each other, and then how Ransom and Holster looked at each other, it didn't seem like anyone had plans to repopulate the planet.

"We need to get out of the city," Jack continued. "There's no way we'll make it out on foot before the sun sets. Does anyone have a car?"

Everyone shook their head.

"Does anyone know how to hotwire a car?" Shitty asked.

Everyone shook their head.

"I can google it," said Ransom. He pulled his phone out of his pocket but within seconds he groaned. "Ugh, there's no internet. I fucking hate the apocalypse." 

"There's a bike rack," said Holster. They had stopped in front of one of the science buildings at the edge of campus. The rack was full of bicycles but all of them were securely chained. Shitty stepped forward with his spear.

"I got this," said Shitty.

Shitty, however, did not have this. A skate blade was no match for the metal locks that secured most of the bikes, but a few were attached with cords that, with some persistence, Shitty could cut through. Jack and Bitty kept watch on the east and west sides of the street while the others detached five bikes.

"Bro, you can ride on my handlebars," said Holster to Ransom.

"That's what he said," replied Ransom and the two high fived.

Ollie and Wicky also shared a bike. It wasn't a long term solution, since there was no way it would be feasible to ride out of Boston with two people balancing precariously on handlebars. Furthermore, they still didn't have an immediate destination.

"Is there an outdoor store nearby?" Ollie asked. "We can get tents and shit."

"Yes," said Jack with an expression of realization. "There's a Dick's Sporting Goods not far from here. I just got a new golf bag from there."

Shitty rolled his eyes so hard he almost fell off his bike.

"Bruh. Golf bag?"

"What?" Jack asked with a frown. "Golf is cool."

"Golf is so not cool," said Shitty.

"Shut up, Shits. If we hurry we can get to Dick's before the sun goes down."

"There's something not right about that sentence," replied Shitty. "And it's because I respect you that I won't make a joke about it."

"But I will," said Holster. "Come on, Jack. Let's get some dick."

Everyone groaned.

 

***

 

Surprisingly, Ollie only fell off Wicky's bike one time before they arrived at Dick's Sporting Goods. Like all of the businesses they had passed thus far, the parking lot was empty. Ransom and Holster forced the front doors open and then everyone split up to secure the building. Despite the illusion of having multiple windows, there really wasn't much to block apart from the front door, the two emergency exits, and the bay doors in the warehouse. There were enough portable displays of merchandise to cover most of it, but the bulk of the work came from stacking heavy boxes in front of the bay door.

Once hunkered down, they began to wander the store. "Oh, thank the Lord!" said Bitty once he saw the clothing section. It had been over a week since he wore clothes that fit him, and despite the skate boots being his size, they were not meant for long term use. Bitty immediately shed Ransom and Holster's too-large sweats and changed into a T-shirt, running shorts, and hiking boots that actually fit.

"Noice," said Ransom as he picked up a pack of underwear. "Holtzy, we can finally shed these rank ass drawers."

"The water's been out for one day," said Jack. "How long have you been wearing your underwear?"

"It's not the length of time," said Ransom. "It's the amount of activity."

Jack groaned. "You could just not masturbate constantly."

"Fuck, man, you are a robot," said Holster.

Now finally comfortable, Bitty wandered toward the hiking section. He pulled several lanterns off the shelf and lit them at the end of the aisles; there was still enough light to see but the sun was starting to set and soon it would be pitch black inside the store. He then took seven of the large hiking backpacks and began filling them with supplies. Everyone got the essentials, including a first aid kit, fire starters, a flashlight and lantern, a water purification set and bottle, and rope. There were a few good weapons on display in various degrees of sharpness -- Bitty was particularly fond of the small pack axe -- so he outfitted everyone with at least one axe and one knife. He then stuffed the rest of the backpacks with as many freeze-dried travel pouches as could fit. Everyone got a portable but warm sleeping bag. Bitty was just deciding which tents to take when Ransom appeared at the end of the aisle.

"Yo, Bits. What're you doing?" he asked.

"If we're really going out of town, we'll have to carry what we need. I wish we had a car. Some of these tents are heavy."

"They got bikes and bike trailers here. We'll can pack the trailers up with the bigger stuff."

Bitty didn't like the sound of that. He selected the smaller, easier to assemble tents and secured one to each pack as well as the sleeping bag. He picked one up and put it on his shoulders. It was heavy but not cumbersome; he'd still be able to ride a bike with it on.

"Bro, what is this!" Ransom called. Bitty turned; Ransom had opened one of the packs and pulled out a hatchet.

"As much as I like the spears, we're going to need actual weapons," said Bitty.

"'Swawesome," said Ransom. He began slicing at the air with the hatchet. "They have guns here, don't they?"

"No guns," called Jack from a few aisles over. "Too loud."

"I think I saw an archery section," called Bitty. 

"YES!" yelled Ollie and they heard footsteps headed to the back corner of the store. Bitty unclasped his backpack and set it on the floor with the others before he and Ransom followed Ollie.

The archery section was small, but there was enough bows and crossbows for the seven of them. Wicky and Holster began assembling the arrows. Shitty stood at the end of an aisle with his hand in a pack of sunflower seeds and three chocolate bars tucked under his arm. He'd shed most of his clothing on the way too.

"Shits," said Jack immediately. "Please put some clothes on. You don't know when we're going to have to leave and you don't want to be stuck outside with nothing on when it starts getting cold."

"You sound hangry. Eat this." Shitty threw a chocolate bar from under his armpit to Jack, who caught it with a disgusted look on his face. He ate it anyway.

The seven of them took turns shooting arrows at targets in the archery practice hallway. Ransom, Holster, and Shitty were hopeless with the regular bows and only somewhat accurate with the crossbows, but by the time everyone had eaten and settled, they could at least defend themselves. Bitty was the best by far so he let the others practice while he attempted to throw together a decent meal between the freeze dried packets and junk food from the impulse area of the checkout lanes.

While Bitty heated a pot of water over a camp stove to rehydrate their food, Jack wandered over with a golf club and a box. Bitty looked at the box in his hand; it was a putting mat. Jack wordlessly set it up in the aisle next to Bitty while Bitty watched, amused. By the time the water boiled, Jack stood on the green mat and began putting. Bitty snickered.

Jack looked up. "What?" he asked.

"You are very NHL right now," said Bitty.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It's the middle of the apocalypse and you somehow find the time to play golf," said Bitty. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were signed tomorrow with that attitude."

Jack frowned and lowered his gaze to the mat again. "There's no more electricity," he said. "So there's no more ice. There's no more NHL." Jack tapped the ball with his club and it sailed down the mat and directly into the hole. He waited, not facing Bitty, while the ball returned to him.

"You don't know that," said Bitty. "You don't know what's going to happen from here. Maybe this is something containable. Maybe they can eradicate the infection or find a cure."

"I came over here because Ransom and Holster were shouting about dicks," said Jack. "I thought you would be quieter."

"You don't know me very well," replied Bitty. Jack finally looked back at Bitty, his expression unreadable.

"No. No, I don't."

The freeze dried packets were surprisingly good and the warm food was welcome even if half their party had already gorged themselves on Swedish Fish and Reese's Pieces. There were several jugs of water cooler refills in the warehouse so after dinner they filled inflatable kiddie pools and were able to somewhat bathe with camp soap. After bathing and changing into new clothes, everyone settled in a different area of the store; Jack near the stove with his putting mat, Ollie and Wicky at the front where there was room to hit a tennis ball back and forth, Ransom and Holster in the skateboarding aisle attempting (and failing) to do tricks. Shitty found an air pump and began filling air mattresses at the center of the store. Bitty wandered back to the supply aisle where their backpacks sat. He fretted over the contents, adding and removing several items, unsure if everyone would need a map or if he could just get away with one, until a crash caught his attention. He froze.

"Sorry!" called Holster. "Us again!"

"Seriously, Holster, you need to keep it down," called Jack in response.

"Spoilsport," called Ransom.

"I just don't want to get attacked by zombies tonight."

"Bruhs, maybe everyone shut up and let's go to bed," called Shitty from the center of the store. "I got the mattresses up."

Bitty carried all seven backpacks to the center of the store where three rows of air mattresses had been inflated. Shitty had covered each with a sleeping bag. Until he saw them, Bitty didn't realize how tired he actually was. He climbed onto one immediately.

"Bits, I thought you were a proper southern gentleman?" Shitty asked. "Take off your shoes in the bed."

"Nuh-uh," replied Bitty. "I went the whole day without shoes on. I'm not getting caught without them again. These puppies are staying on my feet until I die."

Bitty adjusted his sleeping bag over himself. His stomach was full, he wore clean clothes in his size, and he lay upon a soft air mattress underneath a warm blanket. It was by far the most comfortable he had felt since this whole thing started, and even with Ollie and Wicky bickering just a few feet away, he fell asleep quickly.

It didn't matter, though, when the zombies knocked down the barricade at sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I recently walk through a Dick's Sporting Goods store to see what they had available in case of zombie apocalypse? Yes.


	4. Chapter 4

"GET UP! GET UP!"

Bitty leapt off the air mattress and threw on one of the backpacks. The zombies were through the barricade at the front door and filed in like dogs on the hunt. Bitty picked up two more backpacks and hurled them at Ollie and Wicky, who were tying their shoelaces.

"Hurry up," Bitty yelled. "Out the back. Shitty, Ransom, Holster, Jack -- grab a backpack and get to the warehouse."

Ransom and Holster had dumped the bows and quivers in a pile between everyone. Bitty grabbed a set and turned toward the approaching zombies. There weren't many, about two dozen, but they far outnumbered the team. As the others scrambled to grab supplies, Bitty began firing at their attackers.

The first bolt hit a woman directly in the face. Bitty swallowed roughly at the sight of the arrow sticking out of her cheek. She was young. She could have attended Samwell. They might have had a class together. Bitty killed her.

He stretched out his neck in an effort to shake the feeling off as another zombie stepped right over her body and headed down the aisle toward him. They were former people and they were out for blood. His second bolt hit a zombie in the shoulder, which did nothing apart from temporarily slow his momentum. It didn't matter who they were or what they could have been; Bitty needed to worry about his teammates still getting ready behind him. He fired another bolt that hit the zombie in the forehead, stopping it from moving any more.

"Bittle, let's go!" yelled Jack.

Bitty glanced behind him; the backpacks were all taken and the weapons distributed. Several more arrows flew into the onslaught. Bitty fired again, stopping yet another attacker, and then turned toward the warehouse. He ran as fast as he could, glancing frequently over his shoulder, but enough of them had been stopped to make an escape.

Shitty and Holster reached the warehouse first and had pushed aside the barricade. After they threw open the door Holster shouted and fell back, his crossbow drawn. There were fewer zombies at this entrance but they congregated at the door. Bitty grabbed his rolling pin from the side sleeve of his backpack and charged forward, hitting the first two zombies in the head and stopping them enough to get by.

"You have knives in your packs!" Bitty yelled. "Use them!"

The zombies outside the door were spread far enough apart that it was easy to pick them off individually and make a path through to the road. Bitty looked around after he smashed the skull of the last one within striking distance.

"Where's Jack?" Bitty asked, his voice cold. "Shitty! Where's Jack?"

A bike rolled out the open door.

"We can't make it on foot," Jack yelled from inside the warehouse. "Grab a bike!"

Another bike rolled out the door.

Ollie ran back inside, followed closely by Wicky, and within a minute two more bikes had been tossed onto the gravel. "Go!" Jack yelled. Bitty picked up a bike from the ground but hesitated until he saw Ollie, Wicky, and Jack all exit the warehouse. The door shut behind Jack.

"Go north," yelled Jack.

The seven of them pedaled quickly away from the groups of zombies. The largest pack had entered the store and were still inside. On bicycles they'd be able to quickly escape any visible threat that remained. They rode north on the road until they were alone again, and then Bitty stopped.

"Bittle, keep up," called Jack.

"No, stop," replied Bitty. Ransom and Holster immediately stopped, followed quickly by the others; Jack had to circle around to get back to the group.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked. "We're too exposed out here."

"You're going north," said Bitty.

"Yeah. We have to go north. We have to get out of the country. Canada is closest."

"You want us to bike to Canada?" Bitty asked. Jack nodded. "Jack, that is ridiculous. Canada is hundreds of miles away and how do you know it's any better?"

"Go far enough north and there's no one there," said Jack.

"Because northern Canada is just an iceberg," said Bitty. "Nothing can survive there. We have one sleeping bag each and I'm in shorts."

"Uhhhh," said Ollie, "am I supposed to have a sleeping bag?"

Bitty looked at Ollie's backpack; somehow during the scramble to leave, both his tent and sleeping bag had been lost. Bitty facepalmed; they weren't even a mile from the store.

"We just need to get out of the city," said Bitty. "I'm not going to Siberia."

"Siberia's in Russia, Bittle," said Jack darkly. "We're going to Canada. Guys. Come on." Jack turned around and pedaled north again. Shitty reluctantly followed, as did Ollie and Wicky. Ransom and Holster hesitated with Bitty.

"Does it make sense to go north, though?" Holster asked.

"Yes, we just went over this," snapped Jack.

"No, I mean before we get out of the city. If we go west we'll get away from everything and then head north. You're going downtown. There's half a million people that way."

Jack groaned in frustration and turned around again.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "We'll go west. We just need to go somewhere that isn't here." Ransom and Holster followed Jack's lead toward the west, Bitty bringing up the rear. Ransom looked back at him, his expression overly sympathetic.

"He's kind of right, Bits," Ransom said. "If we can get far enough north we don't have to worry about zombies."

Bitty had a hundred counter arguments in his head but chose to follow silently, knowing he'd been outvoted.

They rode all morning with very few stops. Bitty's legs were sore and tired already, but there was no sign that civilization would be ending anytime soon. At noon they stopped on an empty street to eat. In their haste to exit the store, Bitty had left behind the camp stove and Jack refused to allow them to stop long enough to start a fire, so they were forced to eat the freeze dried food right out of the pouch. It was filling, albeit disgusting.

"Everybody done?" Jack asked. Everybody was, but nobody wanted to confirm. Jack sighed. "Listen. I'm tired too, but we've been riding for four hours and we're still in the city. I want to be safe tonight when we go to sleep. I can't -- I can't risk leaving someone else behind."

"What if we ride for another eight hours and we're still in the city?" Holster asked. "What then?"

"Boston's big but it's not that big," said Shitty. "We keep going for another few hours and we should get somewhere remote enough to stay for the night. It doesn't have to be the middle of nowhere, it just has to be quiet. Where are we right now?"

"We just passed a sign that said Needham Heights," said Wicky.

Bitty opened his backpack and found the map of Massachusetts. He flipped several pages until he found the southwest side of Boston and, after a few minutes, pointed to Needham. "Here," said Bitty, and he handed the map to Shitty. Shitty nodded.

"See, bruh, look at this," Shitty said to Holster. "There's all this space between us and Framingham. I say we keep this direction and we'll be fine for the night, at least, then tomorrow we can start looping north to go around the city."

Holster reluctantly agreed. Once Bitty replaced his map in his backpack, they continued west. Within the hour the scenery began to thin and neighborhoods became wooded streets with fewer houses. When the speed limit of the road picked up and they stopped seeing regular residences, Jack slowed the pace.

"This looks good," said Jack. "Let's head into the woods. Keep your eyes open for water and a place where we can set up the tents."

Ollie piped up again. "Am I supposed to have a tent too?" he asked.

"It's fine, Ollie, I don't have one either," said Wicky.

"I gave you both tents!" exclaimed Bitty. "What happened to yours, Wicky?" Wicky just shrugged.

There wasn't a trail in the forest and before long biking became too difficult. They continued on foot until Shitty nodded toward a clearing. "Jack," he said. Jack dropped his bike and headed carefully toward the clearing, his spear in his hands. Now that everyone had real weapons, Jack's stick blade spear was the only one left.

Shitty followed silently behind Jack, holding a machete meant for clearing brush, but could probably open a skull if needed. The rest of the group waited silently behind until Shitty waved them all forward. The clearing wasn't very large but would accomodate them for the night. They began unpacking their tents and quickly realized Ollie and Wicky weren't the only ones who had lost theirs in the fray.

"How many do we have?" Bitty asked. "I have one."

"Me too," said Jack.

"Me three," said Shitty.

"Holtzy, where's your tent?" Ransom asked.

"Fuck!" cursed Holster.

"Quiet," said Jack. "Okay, we have four. They're big enough to fit two people so I think we're fine if we pair off."

"Ollie, you can have mine," said Shitty. "I can share with Jack."

"And you can take my sleeping bag," said Jack. "Rans, Holster, I'm assuming you two can share?" Ransom and Holster both nodded. "Then Bittle gets his own. I think we're good."

Bitty frowned and held his tent close to his body as he attempted to hide any disappointment, but Shitty noticed immediately. "Bits, you all right?" Shitty asked.

"Yep," said Bitty, but his voice didn't sound like his own. "Fine. I'll just sleep in my own tent. By myself. Alone. With no one else."

"Bruh, it's fine," said Shitty. "I can share --"

"I'll share with you," said Jack before Shitty could finish his sentence.

Everyone fell silent and looked at Jack, including Bitty. Bitty could feel the scandalized expression on his own face, but Jack looked the most surprised out of anyone. Jack quickly cleared his throat and placed a hand on Bitty's shoulder.

"I got your back," Jack said.

"Okay," replied Bitty.

Jack took Bitty's tent from his hands and began to set it up. Bitty removed his backpack and retrieved the hatchet from inside of it. He cut a fallen tree branch into pieces and began to assemble a fire in the center of the clearing. As the fire began to crackle and Bitty placed a portable wire rack on top of it, he longed for the fancy camp stoves they'd left behind at the sporting goods store. It would have been far too cumbersome to carry, especially with the distance they'd traveled, but it would have been nice.

"Should I tell a ghost story?" Wicky asked after everyone had set up their tents and gathered around the fire Bitty started.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," said Ransom. "And besides, it's not even dark yet."

"Should I tell a regular story?" Wicky asked.

"Tell them about that 'swawesome woodchuck you saw on campus before the world ended," said Ollie.

"Bruh, don't," said Shitty. "Let's just enjoy the fire in peace."

Peace turned out to be very boring and within minutes Wicky had launched into his story about his rare woodchuck sighting anyway. Ransom and Holster discovered the weapons in their backpacks and giggled while they hacked away at the brush at the edge of the clearing. Bitty took inventory of their remaining supplies. It turned out Ollie's backpack had a hole in it as if it had caught on something and ripped open. Most of his food packets along with a few other survival items had been lost. Bitty repaired the rip with duct tape and redistributed food evenly amongst them all. The loss of the food was significant, but even if it hadn't happened, the supply itself was low.

"Jack," said Bitty. Jack had mostly been paying attention to Wicky's story but Ollie was really the only one listening. Jack looked up at Bitty. "We need to go to a grocery store."

Jack frowned. "It's too dangerous."

"We passed at least three on the way here and all of them looked empty," said Bitty. "Please. All we have are those horrible freeze-dried pouches and even if we ration to just twice a day, we'll run out in a week. I don't want to starve to death. Not this early."

"Okay, Bittle," said Jack gently. "We'll go tomorrow."

Not long after dinner and sunset, Bitty was the first to announce that he was going to sleep. Holster, who had just emitted the loudest yawn Bitty had ever heard, stood and agreed. "I am BEAT!" said Holster. "I hope we don't plan to bike for six straight hours tomorrow too."

"Yes we are," said Jack. "And the next day and every day after that. Until we're safe."

"Fuck this apocalypse," said Holster before he disappeared inside his tent. Bitty picked up the cooled cooking rack and stuffed it inside his backpack, then brought the entire pack into the tent with him. He set it in the corner and picked up the sleeping bag.

He paused. They only had one.

Jack entered the tent behind him. The space was much smaller with both of them inside of it. Bitty scooted to a corner but Jack was still incredibly close to him. The lantern provided minimal light, but Bitty could see the definition in Jack's face that he had never noticed before. His beard came in evenly, thicker in two days' worth of growth than Bitty's would be after a year. He had wide baby blue eyes and the darkest pupils Bitty had ever seen. When he wasn't scowling, the harsh, modelesque angles of his face relaxed into a soft, endearing expression.

"What?" Jack asked. Bitty realized he was staring.

"There's only one sleeping bag," Bitty replied, but it wasn't a worthwhile excuse. Bitty could feel the blush on his cheeks.

"Oh," said Jack. "You can have it."

"I don't want you to be cold."

"It's seventy degrees and you're always freezing. You take it." Bitty frowned as he looked down at the red sleeping bag in his hands. "Don't make that face," continued Jack. "Here, unzip it." Bitty completely unzipped the bag and Jack spread it out like a blanket over the floor of the tent. "This should be big enough for both of us, Bittle, although I guarantee I will kick these covers off overnight."

"You never know," said Bitty and he lay face down underneath the bag. "You might get a chill."

"Are you going to take your shoes off?" Jack asked. Bitty shook his head. "We're in the middle of the forest. You can take your shoes off."

"That's what Shitty said last night and I was rudely awoken this morning by two dozen hungry zombies. No thank you, Mr. Zimmermann, I'm keeping them on." Jack lay next to him underneath the bag as well. Bitty felt his entire body tense when Jack's hand accidentally brushed against Bitty's leg.

"Sorry," said Jack.

"It's okay," replied Bitty, but his fists clenched the fabric of the tent floor underneath him.

"Goodnight, Bittle," said Jack as he shut off the lantern.

"Goodnight, Jack," said Bitty. He squeezed his eyes closed but his body refused to relax. He took in one, long breath. Jack, just inches away from him, did the same. It helped.

"Jack?" Bitty asked. Jack hummed in response. "Thank you for staying with me."

Jack turned toward him; it was still dark and Bitty's eyes had yet to adjust, but he could make out the general outline of Jack's body, now closer than before. "Of course," Jack whispered. "I don't want you to be alone. We're in this together. We're going to survive this together."

"Yeah… Yeah."

"Go to sleep, Bittle."

Bitty shut his eyes and quickly did.

 

***

 

There was no attack in the morning. Bitty and Jack awoke suddenly at the sound of shuffling outside the tent, but it was just Ollie and Wicky rummaging through their backpacks. Bitty restarted the fire while Jack rolled up their tent and sleeping bag. After breakfast, they finished packing their supplies and headed north.

"Are we still stopping at a grocery store?" Bitty nudged after they'd been on the road for twenty minutes.

"Yes, Bittle, we'll stop at a grocery store," said Jack. "Let's get more north, though. I don't like the look of this place."

"Why can't we stop now?" whined Ollie. "I'm tired."

"It's been twenty minutes, Ollie," said Jack.

"I'm still tired from yesterday!" whined Ollie.

"Consider this part of your conditioning," said Jack, and they continued on. Ollie muttered to Wicky, who muttered back at Ollie, but it was only a few more minutes before someone else decided to complain.

"Jack, seriously, my legs are on fire," said Holster.

"Can we stop for a little while?" Wicky asked. "There's a grocery store up that way. Bitty can get us some more food."

"How are we supposed to get to Canada if you guys can't even make it out of Boston?" Jack asked incredulously. "You are _college level athletes_. Stop whining."

"Jack, this is ridiculous!" complained Holster again. Ollie and Wicky both echoed the sentiment. Jack stopped, turned, and looked back at them. He looked ready to start yelling, but before he could open his mouth the color drained from his face.

"Zombies," he said.

Bitty turned as well; the zombies appeared from all sides, from behind cars and buildings, and surrounded them. There were at least fifty, moving swiftly enough that there was no clean getaway.

"Fuck," said Holster.

Bitty hopped off his bike and started firing arrows at the zombies to the north; the north had the highest concentration of attackers, but it was also their way out. Jack followed suit with a crossbow; although accurate, it was much slower than Bitty's bow, so Bitty ran out of arrows before Jack did.

"I have more, take them," said Jack, turning his back to Bitty so Bitty could reach his quiver.

"We're getting through them. Shitty. SHITTY! Helps us out over here! We need a way out."

A shout from behind Bitty caused him to turn, his blood cold. No less than ten zombies were within striking distance of Ollie and Wicky, who had abandoned their crossbows and were fighting off the attack with a machete and a dagger.

"Throw the dagger and come this way!" Bitty yelled. He fired directly at a zombie who'd lunged for Wicky with its one arm. Wicky stumbled backward, his dagger still in his hand. "Wicky! Throw it! Ollie, use the machete on their heads. They can't feel pain, cutting their arms off does nothing."

Ollie swung the machete into a zombie's head, where it promptly got stuck.

"FUCK!" yelled Ollie.

The roar of an engine and a squeal of tires drew everyone's attention. The zombies, still streaming out of buildings, headed to the source of the sound rather than to the frightened, flailing group of seven college hockey players in the center of the street. Bitty took advantage of their distraction to plow the rest of Jack's arrows into the nearest attackers.

A large black truck appeared around the corner. It bowled over zombies like they were nothing and then turned, headed directly for them.

"Zombies can't drive, can they?" Ransom asked.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Shitty yelled. Everyone ran to the sides of the street and the truck crashed into the remaining zombies before coming to a screeching halt. The door opened and a small dark haired woman, college aged, poked her head out.

"GET IN THE CAR ASSHOLES!" she screamed.

"LARDO?" Shitty yelled.

"Sup," said the woman named Lardo. "Get the car and let's get the fuck out of here."

Ollie and Wicky hopped into the truck bed. Shitty took the front seat while Jack, Bitty, Ransom, and Holster all crammed into the back of the truck's cabin. Bitty, being the smallest, ended up in Holster's lap. Lardo sped off down the road. Within 30 seconds no more zombies were visible and everyone relaxed.

"Lards, what the fuck?" asked Shitty. "Why are you here? How are you here?"

"You think I'd miss this?" laughed Lardo. "Honestly I'm surprised you dumbasses are still alive without me."

"How did you find us?" Jack asked. Lardo glanced at him through the rear view mirror.

"I was headed back to Samwell on the highway when I looked over and saw the sunlight reflect off Holster's giant teeth," she said. Ransom burst into laughter and Holster elbowed him. "Why were you biking on the street? No wonder you got attacked."

"No one had a car," said Jack. "The road was the only way to tell where we were going."

"Bruh, why didn't you just steal one?" Lardo asked, gesturing to the car they currently occupied. Shitty laughed uproariously.

"Of course you stole a car," said Shitty.

"I mean, it was easy. The dealership was empty so I just smashed the window and grabbed the keys to the biggest truck I could find," said Lardo. "The worst part was getting here. I was worried the whole way from JFK that I'd get to campus and you would all be dead." Lardo looked over at Shitty.

"Dead?" Shitty asked, but his bravado wavered as he replied to her. "You underestimate us."

"I've seen you boys try to fend for yourselves on long roadies. You don't do well."

"Oh, are you our manager?" Bitty asked. Lardo glanced over her shoulder at him and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Bitty," said Shitty. "Forward."

"You're a little bitty, Bitty," said Lardo.

"He's fast," said Jack. "Ollie and Wicky in the truck bed are frogs on the team too."

Lardo nodded. "Where's everyone else?"

"Not sure," said Jack. "We had to leave campus in a hurry. We are all in the Haus together… with Johnson…"

"Where's Johnson now?" Lardo asked tentatively, but it was clear she knew the answer already. No one responded. "Well, shit."

Shitty cleared his throat. "You flew in?"

"Yeah," said Lardo. "Got in last night. They grounded all flights out of the country but they're accepting relief volunteers. I said I'd help and just kind of slipped away when they were sorting out who would go where. New York's the worst, LA too. All the big cities are hopeless. They're looking for people to set up sanctuaries and blockades to keep the outbreak from spreading outside metro areas."

"Is it just in the US?" Ransom asked. "Has it gotten anywhere else yet?"

"No, just the US," said Lardo. "Nothing's been reported in Mexico or Canada yet. They're being super careful around the borders. Most of the military's out that way to prevent the 'infected' from getting across. No one's using the word zombie."

Lardo turned onto an onramp. The highway was empty. She stopped the truck on a long overpass and looked around.

"This is safe for a minute," she said. "Let's see what you have in terms of supplies and get comfortable."

Bitty was relieved to stop, even if it was just for a moment. The cabin was crowded with four men and all their stuff. He opened the door and hopped out, then detached his backpack and placed it in the bed of the truck. When Lardo exited, he was relieved to see that he was no longer the shortest one on the team. Even more so, though, he was relieved to see that Lardo had a case of non-perishable goods.

"As soon as I got out of the city I stopped at a grocery store and grabbed as much food and water as I could," said Lardo. Bitty shot a look at Jack. Jack completely avoided looking back at him.

"We have some food," said Bitty, "but this is great. Did you get anything else?"

"Nah, I just grabbed this and headed out. Oh, 'swawesome, you have a _crossbow_?" Lardo took the crossbow right out of Ransom's hand.

"Look, I have a hatchet," said Shitty.

"Nice," said Lardo. "I didn't even think about weapons. I might have been thinking just with my stomach. Looks like you've got tents and shit too. I think we'll be good for a while. Where were you headed?"

"Canada," said Jack.

"I don't think you'll be able to get in," said Lardo. "Canada's entire militia is on the border to keep the zombies out."

"I'm a Canadian citizen. So is Rans. They have to let us in," said Jack. "Even if they don't, they can't have people everywhere. We might have to hike across, but once we're in they can't send us back."

"You're the captain," conceded Lardo.

"We should go south," said Bitty.

"Bits," started Ransom but Bitty shook his head.

"No, we have a car now. We can go to the Ozarks or somewhere in the middle of nowhere like Jack said, but we won't have to worry about freezing to death when winter hits."

"Lardo just said the outbreak hasn't hit Canada yet," said Jack. "We're safe if we go there. We don't even have to hide, we can go to my house."

"And she also said the border's patrolled by the Canadian militia. I don't want to waste time trying to get there only to find out they won't let us in. I'm not going to try to sneak across and risk the chance of getting shot."

"We're going to Canada," said Jack with an air of finality.

Bitty hopped into the truck bed with Ollie and Wicky and crossed his arms. Jack unbuckled his own backpack and placed it in the bed as well, but then entered the cabin. Ransom and Holster joined him, Shitty sat in the front seat, and Lardo climbed behind the wheel. Bitty shut his eyes as the truck sailed down the highway again.

He wasn't sure how long he dozed, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before the truck pulled off the highway and into the sketchy lot of a gas station. Lardo removed the nozzle and attempted to lift the handle underneath it, but it wasn't built to move.

"Dammit," she muttered.

"What's wrong?" Bitty asked.

Lardo replaced the nozzle. "It's not going to work," she said. "Most stations need the computer to start the pump. There are a few older ones that still work if you lift the handle, but they're few and far between. We're not getting to Canada with what I have left in the tank."

They stopped at every gas station they could find on the way north, but it was a long and exhausting process that yielded no results. By the time they all ate dinner together, it was clear that most of the team had started to give up hope.

"And you're sure these lifty-handle gas stations exist?" Shitty asked.

"Yes," said Lardo. "I filled up at one in New York. If there's one in New York there's one in Massachusetts. We might have to get off the highway and look for older stations in small towns. Canada's only a few hours away; we can get there on one or two tanks. These trucks are good for eight people and all our shit, but the gas mileage is awful."

"How much do you have left?" Jack asked.

"Not much," said Lardo. "We had a quarter tank when we started searching, but now we're almost out."

"I don't want to risk running out this close to sunset. Let's find somewhere safe to sleep tonight and start searching again in the morning. We should also get a couple of gas cans to make sure we get to the border."

They were already out of the city, still in Massachusetts but near the New Hampshire border, so a temporarily safe area wasn't difficult to find. Lardo parked on the road and they hiked into the woods, settling in another clearing near a stream about a five minute walk from the car. Three of the tents were already up, yet Bitty hesitated near the edge of the woods.

"What's the matter?" Jack asked, his hand outstretched for the tent that Bitty held in his hands.

"I feel like we're too close to the road," said Bitty. "I can still see the car."

Jack and Bitty looked through the trees and, sure enough, the outline of the large truck was visible.

"It's just for a night, Bittle," said Jack, his tone soothing. "We're close enough to make a quick getaway if we need to. Do you want me to set up a watch? We can take shifts."

"No," said Bitty with a sigh. "Let's just go to sleep."

Jack took the tent from Bitty and placed it not far from Shitty's tent, which both Lardo and Shitty had crawled into. It only took a minute for Jack to set it up, then Bitty entered with his backpack, bow, and arrows. He placed his backpack in one corner, his bow and quiver in the other, and then spread the sleeping bag over the floor. Jack entered behind him and set his own backpack in the opposite corner. Jack looked at Bitty and Bitty opened his mouth to speak, but then voices carried from Shitty's tent just a few feet away.

"You should have stayed in Kenya, brah," Shitty said. His voice was softer than Bitty had ever heard it, not only in volume, but also in tone.

Bitty bit his lip as he looked at Jack. Jack kicked off his shoes and lay underneath the blanket as if he hadn't heard anything. Bitty followed suit, and the rustling muffled some of the conversation, but when Bitty settled and shut his eyes, their voices became clearer.

"You were safe there," Shitty was saying.

"And you were here," replied Lardo.

"But you were safe," pressed Shitty. "Who knows what they're going to do to us here or how long this is going to last. You were on a completely different continent. You were out. You shouldn't have come back here just for me."

"You would have done the same. It doesn't matter now. I'm here. Shits. I'm here."

Bitty opened his eyes; it was dark in the tent but not so dark that he couldn't see Jack, whose eyes were also open. Jack let out a quiet sigh.

"She shouldn't have come back," Jack whispered.

"Are Lardo and Shits…?"

"Together?" Jack supplied, careful to keep his voice as low as possible. Bitty sidled closer to hear him only to realize they were now practically touching. Jack didn't back away. "Not officially. Or, they haven't said it's official. He's crazy about her, though."

"She seems cool," said Bitty.

"She is. I like her."

"You actually like someone?" Bitty asked. Jack broke into a smile but still pushed him.

"Shut up. Go to sleep."

"You go to sleep," said Bitty.

They both did within a matter of minutes, so close Bitty could feel Jack's breath. It was comforting, calming Bitty through the night until --

"FUCK! FUCK, GET UP!"

Bitty sat up and lunged for his bow and quiver. It was morning. He unzipped the tent flap to find that they were surrounded by quick-approaching zombies, some of whom had already reached the clearing. Bitty fired at the closest ones while Ransom -- who had shouted -- gathered supplies.

"Get to the truck!" yelled Bitty. He continued to fire arrows as zombies stepped away from the trees. Holster popped out of his own tent with another bow. Bitty gestured west. "Holster, fire that way. Get us an opening to the truck." Holster fired at the dozen or so zombies that separated their group from the vehicle on the road.

Jack jumped out of the tent and collapsed it with all of their supplies inside, then swung the entire thing over his shoulder. "Get to the truck," Bitty said to him, then turned one hundred and eighty degrees to hold off zombies now within grabbing distance.

Lardo and Shitty emerged from their tent, each holding an axe. Lardo began swinging and Shitty grabbed their supplies.

"I think we're good here," yelled Holster. "Get in the truck everyone!" Ransom and Holster both bolted toward the road, followed by Shitty and Lardo.

"Ollie! Wicky! Come on, fuckers!" Shitty called as he passed their tent.

"We're stuck!" Ollie or Wicky yelled; with the tent still zipped, it was difficult to tell who was who. Jack ran to their tent and attempted to unzip them while Bitty continued to fend off the approaching zombies. They were closing in; two dozen had made it to the opposite side of the clearing. None of them had broken limbs. They were quick.

"Start the car!" Jack yelled. "We'll be right there! Bittle -- get going. Take the tent." Bitty fired one more shot, then took the tent from Jack, but hesitated. "Bittle! Go!"

Bitty ran toward the truck. It wasn't possible to fire and hold the tent at the same time, not with both backpacks inside of it. He reached the truck bed and threw his tent inside, then turned and looked behind him. Jack had managed to free Ollie and Wicky and the three of them were headed his way.

The truck roared to life. Bitty was too afraid of hitting one of his teammates that he didn't attempt any more shots from his bow, but the zombies were closing in fast. Just as Jack cleared the woods and approached the truck, Ollie tripped and went down. Two zombies followed and grabbed him by the legs.

"WICKY!" Ollie yelled.

Wicky and Jack both turned. Wicky immediately ran back.

"No, Wicky, don't!" yelled Jack, but it was too late. Wicky held fast to Ollie's arms, but in his attempt to pull Ollie free, two more zombies tackled Wicky to the ground. Jack headed back in.

"Jack! NO!" Bitty yelled. He lunged forward and grabbed Jack by the shirt collar. The force caused Jack to fall directly onto his ass, but fortunately he was still on the road and not in the woods. "Jack, they're gone. Get in the truck."

"No, I can --"

"JACK GET IN THE TRUCK!" yelled Shitty.

A zombie reached the edge of the woods. Bitty immediately let go of Jack and fired an arrow directly into its skull. Jack scrambled off the ground and jumped onto the tailgate.

"GO!" yelled Bitty.

Lardo slammed onto the gas pedal and the truck zoomed forward. Bitty fell backward into the truck bed and landed awkwardly onto his right leg, and then Jack toppled on him. They both sat up and watched until they couldn't see anymore, neither the zombies nor Ollie and Wicky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for allowing me to post a story featuring my favorite trope of all time, unexpected bedsharing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is your leg okay?"

Bitty rubbed his right knee but when he looked at Holster through the window into the truck cab, he nodded. Holster reached a hand through the window and gently placed it on Bitty's shoulder. Bitty patted it before he returned his worried attention to Jack.

They'd been back on the highway for half an hour. Jack hadn't said a word and Bitty hadn't seen his face. Jack stared out the back of the truck toward the road that had long since curved away from the camping site. Bitty had stopped trying to get his attention. The truck bed was not very large; Bitty could see Jack's shoulders shake in a way unrelated to the bumps on the road, but the wind drowned out any sound Jack might have made.

"I'm going to try gas stations again," announced Lardo.

They had very similar luck to the day before, stopping at every station they could find but being unable to siphon gas from any of the nozzles. Bitty was happy he was in the truck bed, because he could feel the tension in the cab through the window as time passed and the gas light dinged. Then, just when Bitty recommended they stop for lunch, Lardo pulled into a station with a liftable handle.

"Yes!" Lardo exclaimed. 

"FUCK YEAH!" yelled Shitty from inside the car. He vaulted himself through the driver's side window to fist bump Lardo.

Bitty looked to Jack, waiting for him to react, but he continued to face away. Bitty turned back to the cab. "Ransom, Holster, can one of you go inside and see if you can find gas cans? We should get a few more just in case we can't get to Canada in one go."

"Wait," said Lardo.

Everyone, apart from Jack, turned to Lardo, who had stuck the nozzle into the tank. The nozzle clicked.

"Oh, this is some bullshit," she said.

"What is it?" Bitty asked.

"I think the tank is dry," said Lardo. She pulled the nozzle out of the truck. As she did, a few drops dripped onto the pavement, but then it clicked and nothing further happened.

"How much were you able to get before it stopped?" Shitty asked.

"Not sure. A gallon at least, but that's only, what, twenty miles? We're still hours away. Dammit! This fucking apocalypse!"

"We should keep north," said Ransom. "Keep trying stations on the way up and if we run out, at least we're not that far."

"Rans, we're hundreds of miles from the border," said Holster.

"That's an exaggeration," said Lardo. "We're a hundred miles from the border."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't think we can walk a hundred miles without getting zombie snatched," said Holster. Bitty immediately looked at Jack for a reaction; Jack only stiffened.

"Let's try the other pumps before we start talking about walking to Canada from here," said Lardo, but even with trying the other fuel types and pumps, the tank only filled a quarter of the way. "We'll keep looking," she said. "There are more of them. We just need to get a hundred miles. We might be able to squeak through with what we have."

Lardo continued north on the highway and no one spoke until she pointed out a sign.

 

**WHITE MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST** **20**

 

"We have twenty miles in the tank," said Lardo. "I say we stop for a bit."

"Stop?" Ransom asked. "We're two hours from the border."

"We might not get to the border. Let's just sit and chill and think about this," said Lardo.

Lardo looked through her rear view mirror and Bitty could see anxiety in her eyes. Shitty, Ransom, and Holster all turned to look back as well. Bitty followed their gaze to Jack. Bitty scooted forward, ignoring the pain in his knee, and gently touched Jack on the arm. Jack looked back; it was the first time all day Bitty had seen his face. His eyes were red and his skin was pale.

"Jack," said Bitty, attempting to keep his voice calm while shouting over the wind. "What do you think? We might be able to get to the border but maybe not. Lardo says we should stop in the forest."

"What forest?" Jack asked. His voice sounded raw.

"White Mountain National Forest," said Bitty. 

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's huge."

Bitty nodded to the others. "We're stopping," he said.

It didn't take long to understand what Jack meant by  _ huge _ . Bitty did not have much knowledge of this part of the country, but as Lardo took an exit to drive into the forest, it seemed to go on forever. They saw no other cars along the way but Lardo drove for a half an hour until she seemed satisfied that they'd made it far enough from the beaten path and pulled into a campsite along a lake.

They were completely secluded here, surrounded by lush trees that had just started to turn for autumn. The water was still, a perfect mirror of the blue sky above it. Bitty could see snow-capped mountains in the distance and while they should have brought him serenity, he shivered at the thought of being outside in his little tent when snow began to fall at sea level. Shitty, upon seeing the water, immediately tore of all of his clothes and ran right into it. Ransom and Holster followed suit, but Lardo stood at the water's edge laughing at them.

It wasn't nearly time for dinner but the campsite had a fire pit so Bitty climbed out of the truck to get the fire going. However, as soon as he put weight on his right leg, his knee buckled and he would have fallen on the ground had Jack not caught him. Bitty clung to Jack for support and together they lifted Bitty back onto the tailgate.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"It's… I don't know," said Bitty. He held his knee in both hands. "It's not broken or anything, it just hurts."

"Was it my fault?" Jack asked. The red rim around Jack's eyes hadn't vanished yet, like he was struggling desperately to keep tears at bay. "I fell on you."

"You fell, yeah," said Bitty, "but it's not your fault. I just need to stay off it." Jack unzipped their tent -- Bitty had yet to open it since throwing it into the truck bed that morning -- and took out the sleeping bag. He rolled it up and placed it under Bitty's calf to elevate his leg, and then opened Ransom and Holster's tent. He retrieved another sleeping bag and placed it behind Bitty's back to support him as he leant against the side.

"I wish we had ice," said Jack.

"I'm okay," said Bitty. "Why don't you go into the lake?"

Jack's gaze drifted to the rest of the team. Shitty had pulled Lardo into the water, fully clothed, and now the four of them were splashing and laughing. Bitty watched Jack for his reaction; Bitty could no longer see his face, but his posture said everything. His shoulders slumped forward and began to shake.

"Jack…"

"Ollie and Wicky should be out there too," said Jack. "They -- they were just frogs."

Jack broke into audible sobs and Bitty immediately lurched forward, ignoring the pain in his knee, to put his arms around Jack's neck. Jack looked down into his lap as he cried. Bitty placed his head against the crest of Jack's shoulder and could feel how rattled and erratic Jack's breath was.

"Jack, breathe," whispered Bitty.

Jack attempted to breathe but his chest rose in unsteady bursts and the exhale from his lips was short and unproductive. Bitty picked up Jack's arm and placed it around his own waist, and then inhaled long and slow. Jack mimicked him. Bitty exhaled just as slow and Jack did the same. He did this twice more and Jack's rhythm seemed to stabilize, but his tears did not.

"I shouldn't have left them," said Jack.

"You would have died too," said Bitty.

"I should," said Jack with a nod. "I should have died."

"No. You're our captain. We need you. We would have all died if we tried to save them. We're supposed to survive, remember? You promised me we'd survive this together."

"They were just frogs," Jack said again. "They hadn't even played a game yet. They had so much promise. Wicky could have been great..."

Bitty closed his eyes, but when he did he was transported back to that first conditioning practice what seemed like a lifetime ago. Jack's face was sharp and severe as he said words Bitty couldn't forget.  _ We have other frogs on the team who can take a check without passing out. We have other frogs who are good. _

If he had been caught by zombies instead of Ollie, Jack wouldn't have reacted the same way. Bitty had been nothing more than an inconvenience to him since the first day of practice: a too-small frog who couldn't take a check; a whiny boy who used all the electricity for pie; a child who couldn't sleep in a tent alone. Bitty would be dead and the rest of the team would be here, in this majestic forest, splashing each other in the lake with a future ahead of them.

"Thanks, Bittle," whispered Jack.

Bitty sat up. Jack's eyes were still red but dry. Bitty simply nodded and propped his leg up again. Jack hopped off the tailgate and headed to the lake.

He didn't attempt to walk again until nightfall. He fished the first-aid kit out of his bag and kept himself medicated with the maximum dosage of ibuprofen, then napped in the truck bed. Now that the sun had set, the team complained about hunger but no one made dinner or even started a fire. Ransom, Holster, Shitty, and Lardo sat around the fire pit, lit by lanterns, and Jack stood alone at the lakeshore. Bitty touched his feet to the ground but before he could put weight on his legs Ransom and Holster ran over and secured him around the waist.

"Guys, I'm okay," said Bitty, although he winced at the first sign of pressure. "It's okay, I can walk."

"You should stay in the truck," said Ransom.

"No, I'm hungry, I want to make dinner," said Bitty. He took a step forward and winced as pain shot up through his leg, but he could at least walk with Ransom and Holster's support. They helped him hobble to the fire pit and gently sat him down on one of the logs. "There's no wood," said Bitty.

"Shits, go hatchet down some wood," said Lardo. Shitty saluted her with his trusty axe and headed to the nearest tree. He began cutting a low hanging branch until it fell to the ground, then he roughly sliced it into smaller pieces. When he returned Bitty lit the wood on fire.

"How d'you do that so fast?" Ransom asked.

"There's a fire starting kit in each of your backpacks," said Bitty. Ransom and Holster exchanged a confused look and Bitty rolled his eyes; it would not be surprising if they'd lost it along the way. He picked up a long stick from Shitty's wood pile and stoked the fire until flames steadily sparked and cracked from the bark of the wood. Bitty inhaled deeply; the smell of a campfire was one of his favorites.

"Can you get my cooking rack from my backpack?" Bitty asked Ransom. "And pick what you want for dinner."

Ransom returned with the cooking rack, the saucepan, and two boxes of macaroni and cheese. Bitty's mouth watered at the sight of it; he didn't know they had mac and cheese. It wasn't the easiest meal to make with their limited tools, but with some creative straining and a makeshift spoon from the foil cheese packet, they had a full bowl to share between the six of them.

Jack sat next to Bitty on the log and they shared their portion in silence. Once everyone had finished eating their way through the artificially cheesy noodles, Jack spoke up.

"I think we should stay here for a while," he said.

"We're not far from the border," said Lardo.

"We don't know what's going to happen when we get there," replied Jack. "They could let us through or they could tell us to go home. If they stop us we'll have to hike across, and Bittle can't even stand. We have the lake, we have food… I don't think we're going to get attacked all the way out here. Let's stop travelling and just rest for a while. At least until Bittle can walk again."

"I can walk," said Bitty quickly.

"Go fill up your water, then," said Jack and he handed Bitty the steel bottle. Bitty took it and attempted to stand only to fall back onto the log with a grimace. "We'll stay a few days," Jack continued. "I need you better if we run into trouble on the way. You're the best shot we've got."

"I don't know. Holster's --"

"If we run into trouble, we need you to watch our backs," said Holster. "I agree. We can stick around until your knee is back to normal."

Bitty grumbled and reluctantly agreed. Jack refilled his water for him.

They stayed awake for a few more hours; Bitty, having napped most of the afternoon, did not feel tired but agreed to go to sleep when Jack set up the tent. Just as he attempted to stand and hobble over, Jack scooped him right off the ground and carried him there. "Jack!" Bitty quickly protested. "I can walk!"

"Shut up, Bittle," said Jack. Bitty pouted and a small smirk ticked up the corner of Jack's mouth, shadowed by his beard. Jack gently set him down inside the tent and pulled the sleeping back over him.

"Okay, stop it. You definitely don't have to tuck me in," said Bitty.

"You should take your shoes off."

"No," said Bitty.

"You'll be more comfortable."

"No," said Bitty, louder.

"Okay, okay," replied Jack, who then took off his own shoes. He didn't stop there, and Bitty watched in the low lantern light as Jack removed his pants and shirt as well. This wasn't the first time Bitty had seen Jack in such little clothing, but it was the first time that Jack proceeded to lie just inches away from him in this state. They were sealed in the tent together, under the same blanket.

Bitty shifted awkwardly, trying desperately to ignore how this made him feel.

"You okay?" Jack asked, his voice low. "Your knee okay?"

"Yes," said Bitty.

"I can probably take someone else's sleeping bag if you need to be more comfortable," said Jack. "Something tells me Shitty and Lardo are only using one."

"No, I'm okay," said Bitty.

"All right," said Jack. He reached over Bitty to turn off the lantern; his bare chest brushed up against Bitty's shoulder and Bitty's whole body stiffened, including areas he desperately wanted to relax when in such proximity to another person. The light vanished and Jack lay back on the ground, no longer touching him.

Bitty sighed and closed his eyes. He still wasn't very tired but there was no use in doing anything else. He lay there, attempting to sleep, until he eventually relaxed. He could feel himself drifting when movement from Jack pulled his attention. This wasn't normal bedtime shifting or odd semi-conscious spasms; Jack was shaking uncontrollably.

"Jack," whispered Bitty. Jack let out a sob muffled by his hand. Bitty immediately turned and wrapped his arm around Jack's waist. 

"I should have listened to his stupid woodchuck story," Jack said.

"Jack, it's okay."

"It's not," Jack replied.

"I know. It's not."

Bitty rested his head on Jack's chest and held him tightly. Jack's shaky breaths and strangled tears caused Bitty's eyes to well with similar emotion. Before long they were crying together and holding each other in their tent in the middle of nowhere, grieving for their lost friends.

 

***

 

In the morning, Bitty's knee felt much better, but he still walked with a significant limp and preferred not to go much farther than the truck or the lake. After breakfast most of them bathed and scrubbed their clothes clean, but Bitty stood at the shore fully dressed, too anxious to do the same.

"Come on in, Bits, the water's warm," said Holster. Bitty shook his head and hobbled across the campsite to the truck. 

Despite Jack's insistence that they were safe here, Bitty still inventoried their weapon supply. Everyone had been given a significant stock of arrows when they were at Dick's, but after Bitty finished counting what was left in the quivers, they only had two dozen. If they were caught in another ambush like the kind that lost Ollie and Wicky, it was possible they'd run out of ammo before they could escape.

Bitty felt his pocket for his phone and frowned at its absence; he still wasn't out of the habit of reaching for it, and then realized it wouldn't matter even if he did have it. He'd have to figure out how to make his own arrows without the internet. He removed a knife from his backpack and hobbled into the woods.

"What're you up to?" Lardo asked.

Bitty looked over his shoulder. Lardo's clothes were clean and dry now but she hadn't put her shoes back on. She leaned against a tree and watched as he rummaged the forest floor with the toe of his boot.

"I need some good sticks," he said. "I don't think we have enough arrows."

"You're going to make your own arrows?" Lardo asked. Bitty nodded. "'Swawesome. What kind of sticks are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Long and thin but sturdy; nothing that's going to break apart when I try to shoot it. See if you can find some little pointy rocks too."

"There's a bunch of rocks on the shore," said Lardo. They searched the trees, careful to remain within sight of the others, and quickly found a dozen appropriate sticks. It was a good start and Bitty's knee was beginning to hurt again, so they moved to the shore. Lardo searched the waterworn rocks for anything small and pointy while Bitty cut the new arrows down to size.

Lardo returned to Bitty with a triangular rock. "How're you going to attach it?" she asked. Bitty held up a ball of twine. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Where did you fine twine?"

"I put twine in my backpack before we left Boston," said Bitty.

"Did you put the entire store in your backpack?" Lardo asked.

"Not the entire store."

"Bro, I'm glad you're here. All I got was food," said Lardo. She watched as Bitty cut a slice into one tip of the stick and stuffed the rock into it, then wrapped the assembly with twine until it didn't wobble. "You know," she said, "you've got that rolling pin. If this doesn't work out you can probably make a decent mace out of it."

"A mace?" Bitty asked and he scrunched his nose.

"Yeah! You put rope in Shitty's backpack. Let me show you."

Lardo ran off and returned a moment later with Bitty's rolling pin and a long cord. She tied the cord around one of the knobs on the pin and knotted it several times, then began to swing it around her head.

"Huh," said Bitty. "I guess that could work. I'd be more afraid of hitting myself in the head, though."

"Nah, you just gotta practice," said Lardo. She continued flailing the mace around her head while Bitty picked up his bow, but he couldn't get the arrow to sit on the string.

"Maybe carve a notch in this end," said Lardo. "That way it won't pop off."

Bitty followed her advice and it worked; the makeshift arrow sat comfortable on the bowstring. Before Bitty could launch it into the trees, Jack approached from behind.

"What're you doing over here?" he asked.

Bitty relaxed the bow and looked over his shoulder. Jack was still redressing and held his now dry T-shirt in his hands. Bitty caught a good look at his chest and abdomen and then quickly turned back around. He lifted his bow again and pointed it at the widest of the nearby trees.

"Making more arrows," said Bitty.

"And a mace," said Lardo. She swung the rolling pin around her head with impressive precision.

Bitty pulled back the bowstring and released the arrow; it sailed off toward the tree and embedded itself in the bark, albeit much more to the left than Bitty would have preferred.

"Nice," said Jack. "We have arrows though, don't we?"

"Not enough," replied Bitty.

Jack didn't say anything so Bitty looked back at him. He'd finished dressing but looked sour, like Bitty had done something wrong. Bitty turned again. He didn't know what he possibly could have done wrong this time. Lardo got up to retrieve the arrow so Bitty picked up his new mace and began to gently swing it in front him, and then immediately hit himself with it.

"Ow," he muttered. Lardo returned with the arrow and showed it to Jack.

"Shouldn't they have feathers or something on them?" Jack asked.

"I don't have any feathers," said Bitty. "Unless you want to go hunt me a bird."

"Maybe I will," said Jack. "Do you need more sticks?"

"Probably," said Bitty.

"I'll take the guys to find some more. Don't shoot me while we're searching."

Jack roused Ransom, Holster, and Shitty and the three of them disappeared into the woods. Bitty began trimming the remaining sticks until he realized Lardo was staring at him. Bitty paused and looked up.

"What?"

"What's up with you and Jack?" Lardo quietly asked, nodding toward the forest.

"Oh," said Bitty. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"That's not what it looks like to me," said Lardo.

"Um… what?"

"He just seems, I don't know, protective of you," said Lardo. "More than anyone else. I haven't gotten the chance to really get to know you yet, but anyone Jack likes is worth my time."

"Thanks," said Bitty. "Ransom and Holster never stop talking about you."

"They're good bros," said Lardo. "Everyone's a good bro." She paused. "I didn't know Ollie or Wicky, though. I know they were in your frog class. I'm sorry that we lost them."

Bitty stared down at the stick in his lap. He didn't know Ollie and Wicky very well either, not like he knew Ransom and Holster, but Jack's reaction had made the loss all the more worse. He could still feel Jack's body shaking underneath him. It took hours for Jack to calm down and when Bitty awoke in the morning, Jack was wrapped tightly around him and unwilling to let go. It was not a feeling Bitty was used to, nor was it something that he particularly understood, so as soon as Jack started to wake, Bitty shimmied out of his grasp and left the tent.

"Me too," said Bitty.

"Holtzy told me you make pies," said Lardo.

"Yeah. You can't really make a pie in the middle of the forest, though," said Bitty.

"Looks like I missed out. Once we get to Jack's house I want to experience this. Holster said it changed his life, although he said the same about Candy Crush."

"To be fair, Candy Crush also changed my life," said Bitty. He patted his pocket and frowned. "I miss my phone. I miss a lot of things. Mostly my bed. Jack's comfy and all but he's much more solid than even my shitty dorm mattress."

Lardo was quiet; Bitty looked up and immediately regretted his words at her expression, which had the kind of smirk that proceeded a chirp but the wide eyes of someone who did not expect to hear what he had just said.

"I don't mean like that!" Bitty said quickly. "I'm just saying that the tent is thin and we have to share a sleeping bag and I would much rather be in a bed than on the ground."

"You said  _ Jack _ is the problem. Not the ground."

"It's not like that! I'm not -- well I am, but I'm not, like,  _ that way _ about Jack." Lardo's smirk widened and her eyes crinkled with repressed giggles as Bitty continued to dig himself into a hole. Bitty let out a deep sigh. "Okay. If we're going to die out here I should probably say it out loud at least once. I'm gay."

"Cool," said Lardo. "And you love Jack?"

"NO!" said Bitty loudly.

"'Kay," said Lardo. She got up and headed to the shore but before she began searching for rocks again, she turned back to him. The wind blew her short black hair over her forehead and into her eyes. She patiently brushed it away. "Bits? Of everyone here, I think you're the least likely to die. None of us are making our own arrows."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, there is a hunting lesson at the beginning of this chapter. If you are thoroughly disgusted by hunting, you'll want to skip the beginning of this one.
> 
> GET READY FOR SOME ACTION!

They remained in the forest for a week. By day seven, Bitty's knee was back to normal, so he took Ransom and Holster into the woods to learn how to hunt. As it was discovered over the campfire one evening, only Jack and Bitty had ever been hunting before. Jack took Shitty and Lardo in one direction, leaving Bitty to take Ransom and Holster in the other. It was a disaster from the start.

"Ransom. Holster," snapped Bitty approximately twenty steps into their lesson. "The point of hunting is to be quiet."

"Sorry Bitty," said Ransom.

"Sorry Bits," said Holster, and then he proceeded to step on a branch and snap it in two with a thunderous CRUNCH. Bitty groaned.

"We're never going to see an animal, much less have the opportunity to kill it," said Bitty.

"I'm actually cool with that," said Holster. "I think we should just eat the food we have in the truck. That's already dead."

"Dude, I'm seriously jonesing for a hamburger," said Ransom.

"And I'm sure there are thousands of cows out here in the  _ forest _ , Rans," said Holster.

"Shut up!" hissed Bitty, and although Ransom and Holster both apologized again, they didn't stop talking. Bitty redirected them back to the lake instead of further into the woods, stating, "We're going to have to settle for ducks. If you shut your pie holes for more than a minute we might be able to get within shooting range before they fly away."

"Aww but ducks are hella cute," said Ransom. "I was hoping for an elk or something."

"There aren't elk around here," said Holster. "We might see a moose, though."

"If we see a moose I am running as fast as I can," replied Ransom. "Those fuckers are FIERCE."

Bitty flung out his arm to stop them from moving further; they were in sight of the lake. Four ducks floated peacefully on the water. Holster opened his mouth and Bitty hit him in the chest, so Holster closed his mouth instead.

"Who wants to try?" Bitty whispered. Neither Ransom nor Holster volunteered. Since Holster was closer, Bitty handed him the bow and one arrow. Holster accepted them with a frown. "Okay," continued Bitty. "They're all going to fly away as soon as you fire, regardless if you hit or miss. Take your time and make it count."

Holster drew back the bowstring and aimed carefully at one of the ducks in the water. Ransom took in a sharp breath, which caused Holster to lower the bow and shush him.

"Bro, focus!" said Ransom in a loud whisper.

"I can't focus with you breathing next to me!" replied Holster in an equally loud whisper.

"Boys, hush!" said Bitty.

Holster drew his bow again. Bitty gently corrected the height of his elbow. Ransom bit his finger in order to keep himself from making noise. Holster let out a sigh and then loosed the arrow, which completely missed all of the ducks and landed in the water. All four of the birds flew away.

"DAMMIT!" yelled Holster.

"It's okay, they're small. Birds are difficult," said Bitty. He approached the shore to retrieve the arrow only to find it floating on the surface, connected to a fish that was now very dead. "Oh look! Holster, you got a fish!"

"A fish?" said Holster. Bitty picked the fish up out of the water and Holster raised his fists triumphantly. "FUCK YEAH!"

"BRO!" yelled Ransom and he leapt onto Holster's back in excitement. Bitty removed the arrow from the fish, wiped it on his shorts, and placed it back into his hip quiver. He then smacked Holster directly in the chest with the fish. Holster grabbed it.

"This is my fish that I caught!" he yelled. "Can we eat it?"

"Probably," said Bitty.

"What kind of fish is it?" Holster asked. Bitty shrugged. "What if it's poisonous or gross or something?"

"I guess we won't know until we cook it," said Bitty. "I'll show you how to do that too."

"Ugh, why can't you just cook it?" asked Holster.

"Because if I die tomorrow and you're stuck out here in the woods forever, you'll need to know how to properly clean and cook your meat."

"That's what she said," said Ransom and nudged Holster, who laughed once before he hit Ransom with the fish and then ran back to the campsite.

Bitty showed Ransom and Holster how to clean and descale the fish before he cut it up and put it into their one saucepan. A saucepan wasn't the ideal tool for this kind of meal, but it would have to suffice. He used one of their arrows to flip the fish around the bottom of the pan, and it was thoroughly cooked through when Shitty, Lardo, and Jack emerged from the opposite side of the forest.

"How'd you do?" Bitty asked.

Shitty looked rather green.

"Oh no, what happened?" Bitty asked. Jack held out a goose. "Oh my God, Jack! I can use those feathers on my arrows!"

"I told you I'd get you something. I didn't expect it to take me a week, though," said Jack. "Lardo killed it for you. Shitty threw up."

"Please just turn it into food so I don't have to look at it anymore," said Shitty, shielding the dead bird from his vision. Bitty took the goose from Jack and began plucking feathers. Jack sat down next to Bitty and peered into the saucepan.

"What'd you get?" Jack asked.

"Holster tried to get a duck and ended up with a fish. D'you wanna grab me some bigger sticks so I can make a spit? This'll be too big for a saucepan."

"We got it," said Ransom and Holster, and they headed back to the treeline. Jack picked up one of the feathers from the pile Bitty made on the ground, twirled it in his fingers, and then ran it up Bitty's arm. Bitty shivered violently; the soft, tantalizing touch of the feather sent waves of desire through his body and he was turned on immediately, which was an ongoing battle he was trying to fight whenever in Jack's presence.

"Something wrong, Bittle?" Jack asked with a chirp in his tone.

"Don't do that, it tickles!" said Bitty. Jack laughed and did it again; Bitty couldn't control the strangled cry that emitted from his throat and he fell over onto his side in an attempt to hide the situation in his shorts. Jack laughed again.

"Okay, okay, sorry, Bittle," he said. He dropped the feather back onto the pile and then peered again into the saucepan. "Your fish is burning."

"Dammit, Jack," muttered Bitty. He removed the saucepan from the fire and used his arrow to slice the fillet up into six pieces. Despite their disgust in actually hunting their lunch, everyone seemed perfectly happy to accept the fish that Bitty handed them. Bitty still could not identify it, but it was white and flaky and tasted fine. More importantly than anything else, it was fresh and warm.

After lunch Jack helped Bitty prepare the goose since the other four conveniently disappeared as soon as Bitty started to set up the spit to roast the bird over the fire. It wouldn't be quite like Thanksgiving or Christmas, though, without butter, salt, or pepper, but Bitty looked forward to serving the others a feast.

"This is going to be good," Jack said after Bitty set the goose over the fire.

"Yeah," said Bitty. "Thanks for getting this for me, Jack."

"Thank Lardo. She did all the work."

"I doubt she did all the work," said Bitty. "If your hunting lesson went anything like mine, you would have ended up with nothing if you hadn't gotten lucky."

"It's possible while I was giving her a lesson on how to properly hold the bow the goose flew into her face and she stabbed it with the arrow." Bitty laughed at the thought; geese were aggressive but it was good to know Lardo could defend herself.

With the goose cooking over the fire, Bitty began separating feathers. Over the course of the week they'd made fifty more arrows; the sticks were easy to find, but they quickly ran out of pointy rocks. Bitty had enough of the larger, coarser feathers to line most of the new arrows and improve their accuracy.

"Can we make a pillow out of this?" Jack asked as he brushed his fingers over the smaller, softer feathers.

"I think you're going to need more than that," said Bitty. "Next time there's an apocalypse, remind me to bring my pillow. My neck has been messed up since we left the Haus."

"Well you could always just lay on me," said Jack. Bitty paused and looked at him. Jack looked more confused than embarrassed by his statement, so they both ignored that it had even been said and continued working.

It was warm by the fire but when the sun began to set, Bitty could feel the cold settle in for the first time. The trees were starting to turn color and it only meant that winter was on its way, which did not bode well for Bitty. He still wore the same clothes he took from Dick's Sporting Goods -- athletic shorts and a T-shirt. He was not prepared for the change in weather. When the sun completely set over the horizon, Bitty began to shiver.

"Bits," said Ransom. "Do not tell me you are cold."

"I'm freezing," said Bitty. He shifted closer to the fire and wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

"It's probably upper-sixties right now. This is not cold."

"I'm cold!" said Bitty vehemently. "None of you are from the south. This is not normal for us."

Bitty continued to shiver, watching the goose on the spit, until Jack got up and walked away. A minute later Jack returned with their sleeping bag and dumped it on Bitty's shoulders.

"Thanks, Jack," said Bitty.

"You're welcome. Is it ready yet?"

"Probably," said Bitty. "Can you help me cut it up? Who wants a leg?"

"I want a leg," said Ransom and Holster together.

"Man, I don't care, just give me something," said Shitty.

Between the six of them they made good work of the goose. It was greasy and delicious and gone far too soon. Bitty licked his fingers while huddled inside his sleeping bag, the warmth of the fire compensating for whatever he couldn't cover. The logs crackled and smoked in between them all, and beyond it the still lake reflected the clear night sky. Being this far from civilization, and with the power out, all of the stars were visible.

"It's beautiful out here," said Bitty. "It's almost like we're camping."

"We are camping," said Shitty.

"You know what I mean," said Bitty. "It's almost like we're just a bunch of friends who decided to hang out here for the weekend. Like we're having fun instead of… you know."

"Running for our lives?" Lardo supplied. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"I wish we had smores," said Holster.

"UGH smores would be amazing right now," said Ransom.

"Somebody didn't want to go to a grocery store," said Bitty and he looked pointedly at Jack.

"I didn't know we'd get smores out of it," replied Jack with a small smile. "I think I would have agreed to it had I known."

"When we get through this, I'll make y'all smores," said Bitty.

"We should probably get back on the road," said Jack reluctantly. "If your knee's back to normal there's no reason to stay here."

Bitty looked over at the rest of the group, and no one made eye contact with each other. Jack was right, but at the same time, it had been a very peaceful week. Jack didn't press the topic further so they lazed by the fire, stomachs full, until Holster nodded off and fell right from his log onto the ground, which caused everyone to burst into giggles.

"Thanks guys," said Holster bitterly. "Glad I can provide some entertainment."

"I'm glad you're here, Holtzy," said Lardo and she patted him on the back. Holster grumbled and stood.

"I'm going to bed," he said.

Ransom followed him. It wasn't more than a minute before Shitty and Lardo decided to turn in as well. Bitty looked at Jack.

"You want to go to bed?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah, might as well," said Jack. "We should sleep out here."

Bitty looked around. "Out where?"

"Out here, under the stars. It's beautiful. We should take advantage of it before we get back in the car and head to civilization again," said Jack.

"Jack, it's freezing out here," said Bitty.

"One, it's not, and two, we have a sleeping bag."

"How are we going to sleep out here with one sleeping bag? I'm not sleeping on the ground. I'm dirty enough as it is."

"You do kind of smell bad," said Jack, but he smiled as he said it. "We'll zip it up and sleep inside. We can both fit in it."

Bitty felt very torn. He did feel cold and it was only going to be colder away from the fire, but sleeping so close to Jack had become his favorite part of this journey. It had been six nights since they arrived in White Mountain National Forest, and each one of those nights involved some kind of physical contact with Jack Zimmermann. It was the best part of going to sleep.

"Fine," said Bitty. "I hope you're okay with cuddling."

"After two years of friendship with Shitty, I'm pretty used to cuddles," said Jack with a laugh. "Besides, it'll keep you warm." Jack stood and headed out toward the lake. Bitty wrapped himself more tightly with the sleeping bag and followed. Jack picked a grassy spot just out of reach of the shore and kicked off his shoes. He held out his hand for the sleeping bag. Bitty looked down at himself.

"Come on, Bittle," Jack said. "I can't get in it with you wrapped up all like a burrito. Let me get in and then you can join me."

Bitty reluctantly handed over the sleeping bag. Jack shook it out, zipped the bottom third, and then climbed inside. Bitty crawled into it after him.

"Ow! Don't kick me with your combat boots," said Jack.

"Sorry," said Bitty. He quickly zipped the sleeping bag the rest of the way, then turned to Jack and placed an arm around his waist. In return Jack wrapped an arm around Bitty's back. Bitty sighed, his head on Jack's chest, and started to feel warm. He closed his eyes. The wind began to blow, rustling steadily through the trees.

"Bits, look at this," Jack whispered.

Bitty opened his eyes and looked up. With the fire beginning to burn itself out, the light around them dissipated, but the moon was bright and full above them. Bitty could see everything -- the trees on the hills and the mountains in the distance, but more than that, he could see hundreds and hundreds of stars. 

"It's like I'm falling into it," said Bitty. "Like it's an ocean and we're about to dive in."

Jack's hand began to gently rub his back. Bitty should have stiffened, have felt awkward at the touch, but the motion felt right, natural, like Jack did this every night. It was calming and made Bitty's eyelids flutter. He tightened his grip on Jack's waist.

"I'm looking forward to being home," said Jack, "but I'm going to miss this."

"Miss what?" Bitty asked.

"Just...this."

Jack placed his hand lower on Bitty's back, just above his hip. Bitty lifted his head from Jack's chest and looked up at him. Jack's skin was pale and silver in the moonlight, but his expression was clear. Bitty had never seen something like this directed at him, but there it was, pure and soft and welcome. Jack wanted to kiss him.

"We can still… it doesn't have to stop when you go home," said Bitty with hesitation.

"No?" Jack asked. His lips turned upward to a smile.

Bitty shook his head. "No," he replied.

Jack put pressure on Bitty's back, pushing him closer. Bitty could feel his heart racing in his chest, but could also feel Jack's underneath his right hand, the same thumping beat, excited for what was to come. Bitty leaned forward and then suddenly stopped at the sound of loud rustling from the trees. He quickly sat upright.

"What was that?" Bitty asked.

"The wind?" said Jack. "That's just the wind in the trees."

Jack's hand urged Bitty forward again but Bitty shook his head.

"No, that's --" A SNAP sounded from just past the treeline. "That's not the wind."

Bitty scrambled out of the sleeping bag and ran to the tent where his bow, arrows, and backpack lay. As soon as he arrived the first zombie stepped out of the forest.

"ZOMBIES!" Bitty yelled.

The moon was bright but the fire was out by now, so visibility was poor. Bitty could see to the treeline on both sides but not inside of them. He picked up his bow and shot off an arrow to the zombie who'd emerged from the trees.

Jack appeared behind him, his shoes on, and threw the sleeping bag into the tent before he collapsed it. "Get to the truck," Bitty said. "WAKE UP! GET TO THE TRUCK! Fuck, I can't see anything!"

Another zombie appeared out of the treeline and Bitty hit it as well. The rustling was getting louder; there were more of them but he couldn't see where they were coming from. He and Jack ran toward the truck, Bitty with his bow drawn, searching back and forth for signs of movement. It was impossible to see into the trees.

Shitty and Lardo leapt out of their tent. Lardo ran to the truck while Shitty collapsed the tent, but Ransom and Holster hadn't emerged yet.

"RANSOM! HOLSTER! FUCK!!"

A dozen zombies popped out of the forest and converged on Ransom and Holster's tent. Bitty began firing arrows without second thought, most hitting the zombies, but some hitting the tent instead. He had no idea if he'd hit anyone inside.

"Dammit," Bitty said. "Guys, Ransom and Holster --"

At least ten more zombies sprang out of the forest and flopped onto the tent. From inside, Ransom and Holster were screaming. 

"No," said Bitty and he lowered his bow. There were too many. "Jack."

"Get in the truck," said Jack.

"Jack, there's too many."

"There's more coming," said Jack.

Bitty looked around the periphery of the campsite; the zombies poured in from every direction, most of them aimlessly walking, some switching their course at the scent of prey.

"GET IN THE CAR!" yelled Lardo from behind the wheel.

Bitty didn't move.

"Bittle, get in the car," said Jack.

Ransom and Holster continued to scream from inside their tent and Bitty began to cry at the sight of twenty zombies tearing the fabric apart. Then Jack grabbed him around the waist, picked him up, and carried him to the truck. Jack flung him into the back seat and the truck sped away, leaving Ransom and Holster behind.

 

***

 

"Are you sure you're going the right way?"

"It's really dark out here!"

"I think we passed that sign already."

"I don't know. I don't know where we are."

"Lards. I think we're lost."

"I know! I can't get us out!"

They had been driving for hours but it was still dark. From what Bitty could see out the window, they were still in the forest. Shitty and Lardo had been bickering for thirty minutes. Bitty balled himself up in the corner of the cabin, tucked tightly in a sleeping bag, and hadn't had a thought since they left Ransom and Holster behind to be torn apart by zombies. He may have fallen asleep at some point, but it felt as if they had been driving through the woods for years.

"Maybe if you go up that way," suggested Shitty. "That way looks familiar."

"Do you want to drive?" Lardo said through her teeth. "I can pull over and we can switch."

"Please don't stop," said Bitty.

Bitty felt Jack's gentle hand on his back. He closed his eyes. It was comforting, but he didn't want to be comforted. There were only four of them left and they were lost inside a gigantic forest with no gas and no sense of direction.

"Oh thank God, I think that's a highway sign," said Lardo with a relieved groan. The tension in the cabin eased immediately and within a few minutes there were no more turns and hills as Lardo pulled onto the highway.

"How much gas do we have?" Jack asked.

"Not much," said Lardo.

"Can we get to Canada?"

"No."

Bitty opened his eyes. Lardo was very matter of fact about her reply. Jack's hand tensed on Bitty's back and adjusted to protectively grip his shoulder instead.

"How far will we be?" Jack asked.

"It's hard to tell for sure, but we've got maybe thirty or forty more miles in the tank," said Lardo. "We're at least a hundred from the border still."

"So sixty miles at worst," said Jack.

"I'll keep an eye out for gas, but if any of them look like they've been updated in the last ten years, I don't think it's worth stopping."

"I agree," said Jack.

Bitty stiffened and Jack began to gently rub his back. He closed his eyes again and fell asleep. It seemed like just a moment when a lurch awoke him suddenly. It was morning. Jack had fallen asleep at some point as well, leaning against the opposite window, his hand no longer on Bitty's body. Shitty looked like he had been awake this entire time, but only barely so. They were stopped at a decrepit gas station.

Bitty waited with bated breath as Lardo got out of the truck and attempted to lift the handle. It set into place with a CHUNK.

"YEAHH!" yelled Shitty.

"Now let's see if there's any gas left," Lardo said.

There was. After Lardo began pumping the nozzle continued on. Bitty had never been so happy to smell gasoline.

Shitty hopped out of the truck and ran over to Lardo where he lifted her up and swung her around, which unfortunately meant that the gasoline lifted up and sprayed all over the ground as well.

"Shits! Put me down!" yelled Lardo. She laughed as she replaced the nozzle. Bitty lowered his window and watched as she continued to fill the tank.

Despite having plenty of fuel, the station looked like it hadn't been used in years. A metal gate had been drawn over the entrance to the convenience store. Weeds grew between cracks in the pavement. The cover over the underground tanks was so old it rusted shut. The sign for the air pump was faded and worn from weather and exposure. Bitty did not feel safe here; apart from the road to the west, they were surrounded on all sides by dense forest. Bitty quickly searched the treeline and noticed the movement immediately.

"Lardo, get back in the car," said Bitty.

"We've barely filled up --"

"It's enough. Get back in the car, they're coming fast."

They were indeed coming fast, and from every direction. Shitty began rummaging through the truck bed for a weapon. Bitty threw open his door and jumped out, but hit Lardo and the nozzle in the process, knocking both to the ground. The nozzle continued to flow onto the pavement, soaking Lardo's clothes in the process. "Sorry!" Bitty yelled. He quickly helped Lardo to her feet and then pulled his backpack from the truck bed.

"Bow, where's my bow?" Bitty muttered, searching the truck bed with Shitty. "JACK! Where did you put my bow?"

"Here," said Jack. He threw Bitty a bow and a quiver of arrows. Bitty began shooting, but the zombies were fast approaching. He jumped into the bed of the truck and stood, picking off the fastest ones. Shitty found his hatchet and threw it -- as soon as he did Bitty felt Jack grab him around the waist and pull him down off the truck bed and onto the ground.

"Jack, what the --"

The axe missed all of the approaching zombies and skid along the large rusted cover of the underground tank. Sparks began to fly.

"Oh shit," said Bitty. Jack pushed him away, behind the ice freezer that contained nothing but plastic bags and stagnant water. Just as they hid, an overwhelming BOOSH exploded behind them. Bitty could feel the resulting heat and shock wave even from behind the freezer. The wave sent him flying forward onto his face and ringing filled his ears. The smell was the worst of all; smoke, gasoline, and burning flesh filled the air. Bitty coughed and gagged, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Jack appeared in front of him, his face dark with soot. He was shouting something but the ringing in Bitty's ears blocked all other sound. Jack pulled Bitty to his feet and pointed to the woods -- they started running as fast as they could. Bitty looked back over his shoulder; the entire station had gone up in flames. Whatever zombies were lurking in the forest had been affected by the blast. Bitty could see a few of them on fire on the ground, unmoving. And as they continued to run, Bitty could see his bow lying next to the freezer.

He stopped and started to head back. Jack held firmly onto him and wouldn't let him get away. Bitty pointed and tried to shout  _ my bow _ , but if sound left his mouth, he couldn't hear it. Jack shook his head and pulled Bitty forward, so Bitty started running again. Jack didn't have a backpack. Jack carried nothing but his hockey stick with the skate blade attached to it. The truck was gone, Shitty and Lardo were gone, and between them they had one backpack, a makeshift spear, a rolling pin on a rope, and sixty miles to the border.

They kept running until Bitty's knee hurt so badly he had to stop. The ringing in his ears was still loud but less than it had been at the time of the explosion. He could hear their feet crunching the leaves and sticks on the ground, so at the very least he had not gone deaf. It didn't matter. They were alone in zombie infested territory with no supplies and no more hope. Bitty collapsed onto his knees and began sobbing.

"No, Bitty," said Jack, who knelt on the ground in front of him. "Bitty, it's okay. We're okay. We're still alive."

They were, but neither of them had come out of the explosion unscathed. Jack had blood stuck to the side of his face and Bitty could feel abrasions all over his body. Bitty hung his head and continued to cry.

"Bitty. It's okay."

"No," Bitty replied, his voice thick with tears. "No, it's not. Everybody's gone. My bow is gone. We're never going to make it to Canada. We're going to die out here like everyone else."

"Bitty, no," said Jack. He placed one hand on Bitty's arm and the other on the side of Bitty's face, directing Bitty's gaze back to him. "Look at me. Listen. We're going to make it through this. We got this far because of you. You packed us these supplies. You made us food. You held off hundreds of zombies all along the way because you knew what to do."

"But I don't," said Bitty. "I don't know what to do now. Everyone --"

"It's you and me now, okay?" Jack said. He nodded his head until Bitty did too. "We are going to survive. We're in this together. We're a team."

"Jack…" said Bitty and his face contorted in his emotion. "You never wanted me on your team."

"I do," said Jack. "I do. I want you. I need you. Bits."

Jack leaned forward and their lips connected. Bitty gasped before he responded, holding tightly onto Jack's arms as Jack furiously kissed him. It was hard and intense and over all too soon as Jack pulled away and gathered Bitty tightly in his arms.

"Please don't shut down on me," Jack said. "I need you."

"I'm here," whispered Bitty. "Don't leave me."

"No," said Jack. "Never."

Jack continued to hold him and Bitty's brain felt like it was going to explode just like the gas station. He could still smell the soot and the fumes on his clothes. His ears still rang. He felt weak and lost, but Jack's arms were strong and firm.

"Jack," said Bitty. Jack rubbed his back. "Kiss me again."

Jack did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is allowed to judge my completely implausible gas station explosion.


	7. Chapter 7

After a thorough inspection of their surroundings, Jack and Bitty sat on a fallen log and began to check their supplies. They had a sleeping bag still, which was unexpected good fortune. The weapon situation was considerably worse: a spear, a mace, and one hunting knife. The rolling pin mace had the longest range, but Bitty was still positive he'd hit himself before anything else if he tried to use it. In addition to their weapons and the sleeping bag, they had roughly a week's worth of freeze-dried food, a half-full bottle of water with a built-in filter,  and a few random survival supplies. It would have to do to get them to Canada.

"We should find a river," said Jack.

The wind rustled loudly through the trees, making it difficult to listen for a source of water. Even worse, the wind had a bite to it even in the sunlight. The days were getting colder. Bitty hugged his arms to his chest as they started walking north. Jack put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close; it helped a little.

A half hour later Jack stopped and looked to the right. "Do you hear that?"

Bitty stiffened with fear until he heard what gave Jack pause; the rushing sound of a natural waterfall. Jack took Bitty's hand and pulled him forward. A few minutes later they could see it; a stream cut through the trees, too small to be called a river. The water fell over a natural rock formation, which caused the rushing sound, and pooled at the bottom before continuing south. Jack cautiously approached the water and knelt at its side.

"It's deep enough," said Jack, but Bitty didn't know what he meant by that. "We should wash up here before we move on." Jack looked over his shoulder at Bitty, who quickly shook his head.

"No," said Bitty.

"Bits, you're covered in soot and cuts. You need to clean up or you're going to get an infection. I can't treat a fever out here."

"No," said Bitty again. "I - I can't. You can go ahead. I'll keep an eye out."

Bitty took his rolling pin out of the backpack's side pocket and held it tightly in front of him. Jack sighed, but then stood and approached Bitty. "Let me grab the soap." Bitty turned, his eyes darting between the trees for signs of movement. Apart from the wind blowing leaves and branches, there was nothing around them.

Jack removed the soap from the backpack. When Bitty looked back, Jack had taken off his shirt. The contrast was amusing; a line separated the dirt and ash from his clean skin underneath his clothes. Then Jack pulled off his pants and Bitty's eyes widened before he quickly turned around again.

"Are you seriously turning around?" Jack chirped. "We've showered together before. You've seen me naked."

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

Bitty tightened his grip on his rolling pin. "But now I like it."

Jack's hands rested on Bitty's shoulders. "You're allowed to like it, you know," Jack whispered in his ear. Bitty jumped and Jack laughed, then released Bitty's shoulders and returned to the stream. Bitty waited patiently, still searching the woods for enemies that weren't there as Jack bathed in the water.

It was tempting, both to look and to join him. Jack's hands had been wet and while the water was cool, it wasn't uncomfortably so. Bitty's clothes had taken on the crusty feel of dirt and grime. His hair felt like straw. His skin itched. He could smell the gasoline but also his foul, natural odor that for some reason Jack tolerated.

He shuddered. It was too much to think about.

Bitty felt a tug on his backpack again and looked over his shoulder. Jack was still shirtless, and possibly still naked, and began to rummage again. He pulled out a pack of body cleansing wipes. "Bittle," he said. "I need to clean you off. I'm not going to throw you in the water, but we're not going anywhere until I can at least get this dirt off. Okay?"

Bitty turned. Jack was definitely still naked. His clothes had been cleaned and wrung out, and now lay drying on rocks near the waterfall. Jack took the rolling pin from Bitty's hands, which Bitty let go of freely, and placed it on the ground. He removed the backpack, which Bitty was less eager to give up. He removed a wipe and held it up to Bitty's face, hesitating, waiting for permission. Bitty nodded.

Jack began to wash Bitty's face. The wipe was wet and soft against his skin. He closed his eyes and allowed Jack to clean his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, down his jaw and along his neck, then behind his ears and into his hair. It stung along the nape of his neck and he winced. "I'm sorry," Jack whispered. "You have a scratch here."

"It's okay," Bitty replied.

Jack removed a second wipe from the pack and began on Bitty's left hand. He cleaned Bitty's fingers and palm thoroughly, where the worst of the dirt compacted, then up his arm and into his sleeve. He did the same on Bitty's right arm and then stepped back, looking over Bitty's torso. Bitty stiffened as he anticipated the question.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Jack asked gently. Bitty hesitated. He looked around at the trees again. The wind had died down. Apart from the babbling water, it was silent. They were alone. Bitty nodded. Jack removed his shirt, then threw it into the stream. He returned to clean under Bitty's arms and over his shoulders. When Jack ran a fresh cloth up Bitty's sides, he grimaced again.

"Does it hurt?" Jack asked.

"Tickles," said Bitty. Jack smiled and Bitty looked away, back to the trees. Jack was just trying to wash him while he reluctantly agreed; he didn't need to see things like Jack's shiny, naked skin or his ridiculously attractive smile, otherwise this was going to turn into something much more than a bath.

Jack's hand dipped just below the waistband of Bitty's shorts and Bitty's postured piqued; this was definitely turning into more than just a bath. When Jack finished with Bitty's back and returned to the front, it was clear from his expression that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Can I take your pants off?" Jack asked. It wasn't the same tone as the permission for Bitty's T-shirt. That had been gentle, understanding, careful of Bitty's feelings. This was flirty, with the full knowledge of what he was asking.

"You're really pushing your luck, mister," said Bitty.

"What? I want to make sure you're nice and clean here. If you want me to stop --"

"Just take my damn pants off," said Bitty.

Jack knelt on the ground and Bitty determinedly did not look down; looking down meant acknowledging that Jack had been rubbing him down while also naked. Bitty felt a hand on his boot and immediately stepped back.

"NO!" Bitty said loudly. "Not my shoes!"

Jack put both his hands up. "Okay! Okay, I'm not taking your shoes off. Come back. Please."

Bitty looked at Jack's face and attempted to not look down any further, but Jack's chest and shoulders were right there, and his abs were right underneath his chest, and… Bitty swallowed deeply before he took a step toward Jack. Jack placed his hands on Bitty's waist, holding him for a few moments, until Bitty relaxed, and then he tugged the shorts down. Bitty stepped out of them and Jack also threw them into the water to wash later.

Jack started at Bitty's ankles, careful not to dip below his sock line, and then made his way upward. It was soothing, in a way, until Jack's hand reached the inside of Bitty's thigh and a spark of desire shot in a straight line directly between his legs. Jack was kneeling just inches away; there was no way he didn't notice. Bitty closed his eyes nervously as Jack switched to his other leg.

"You okay, Bittle?" Jack asked.

He'd resumed chirping. He definitely knew.

"Mmm-hmm," said Bitty.

"I'm almost done," said Jack. "I'm going to have to take your underwear off."

"Okay," said Bitty. His voice sounded very unlike his own, and he'd agreed to something he never thought he'd agree to in this situation. Jack pulled at the hem of his boxer briefs and then there it was, out in the open, and Bitty squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. He stepped out of his underwear and a new wipe touched the side of his hip. It was just a matter of time before the touch grew too intimate. Bitty could feel his skin humming. He was no longer cold.

Jack cleaned the back first, over his cheeks and the curve where his ass met his thigh. Bitty could feel Jack's hesitation and then, there it was, between his legs. He couldn't help what came next; it didn't matter that Jack was just doing this to clean him for the first time in weeks. It didn't matter that this wasn't meant to be sexual, even if Jack had started teasing him. A tiny moan escaped his lips and he clapped his hand over his mouth to hide it. It didn't matter; it was too late.

He felt a gentle press of lips against his hip. He wanted to look down but he also didn't want to see Jack's face. Jack's hands paused long enough for Bitty to know he was waiting for a response. He finally looked down.

Jack's cheek rested against his hip, just inches away from Bitty's fully erect cock. His hand, holding a fresh damp cloth, hovered expectantly near it. Jack's other hand held onto the back of Bitty's thigh for stability. "Can I?" Jack whispered.

"Yes," said Bitty.

Jack touched him and began to stroke him up and down. Bitty immediately keened and had to grip tightly to Jack's shoulder to prevent from falling over. He moaned loudly at Jack's persistent touch. The past few hours had taken a drastically unexpected turn, from Jack looking at him in the moonlight and leaning in for a kiss, to their actual first kiss after the last of their companions died, to the ringing that continued in Bitty's ears even now. It felt overwhelming. It felt so good.

"Jack, fuck," breathed Bitty and with one more squeeze to Jack's shoulder, he came in Jack's hand. Jack looked up at him with his soft blue eyes.

"Better?" Jack whispered.

Bitty nodded.

"Come here."

Bitty collapsed to his knees, still feeling wobbly from his orgasm. Jack pulled him forward and kissed him, hungry, passionate, intense. Bitty tentatively placed a hand on Jack's stomach, knowing Jack was just as hard and aching as Bitty had been, but unsure how to give that kind of pleasure to someone else.

"Jack," Bitty whispered; Jack kissed along his cheek, his jaw, into his neck. "Jack, I don't know how to --"

"Just touch me," said Jack.

Bitty looked down; Jack's erect cock, longer and thicker than his own, jutted toward him. Bitty ran his fingers down Jack's stomach, eliciting a low whine from Jack's throat, and then wrapped his hand around Jack's cock. He tentatively gave it a stroke. Jack nodded.

"Yeah. Keep going."

Jack's face was buried in Bitty's neck, no longer kissing him, as Bitty continued to work him up and down. Jack's breathing picked up, strained and erratic, which seemed to be a good thing, but Bitty still felt unsure of himself. "Good?" Bitty asked.

"Yes," breathed Jack.

It was only another minute or so before both of Jack's arms wrapped tightly around him and Jack's mouth returned to Bitty's neck, not really kissing, mostly just resting until suddenly Jack bit down, not enough to break skin, but enough for Bitty to realize he was coming. He continued as Jack came over his hand and onto the ground below.

Jack pulled away and wiped at his mouth, then sat back on his ankles and looked over Bitty's face. He looked satiated and a little sheepish.

"You know," Bitty said, unable to stop his chirp, "the point of running away to Canada is so I  _ don't  _ get bit."

"Sorry," said Jack. "I was -- it was good."

"Yeah. It was good."

Bitty realized he hadn't checked their surroundings for several minutes and quickly stood to do so, but it wasn't necessary. They were still alone. "Oh, thank God," said Bitty. "I want my clothes back now."

"Hold on, I haven't washed them yet," said Jack.

Jack scrubbed the clothes with camp soap and a rock and then set them next to his own to dry. In the meantime, Bitty took out their map and began searching it.

"Do you know where we are?" Bitty asked.

"Not sure. I think the gas station said Barton? I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't think --"

Bitty's breath hitched in his chest at the memory of what had happened there. Jack never finished his sentence and Bitty didn't press for him to do so. Instead he searched along Interstate 91 for Barton. It took several minutes because Bitty hadn't realized how far north they'd actually come.

"Oh, wow, we're not far," said Bitty. Jack approached from behind, put both of his arms around Bitty's waist, and rested his chin on Bitty's shoulder. Bitty pointed to the map. "We're, what, twenty miles? Thirty miles? We can get there in a day or two if we try."

"I think we should avoid crossing on a road," said Jack. "If we were attacked this close to the border they're going to be strict about it. I don't think it matters if I'm a citizen, and besides, I can't prove anything. My wallet's still at the Haus."

"I'm sure we can go back and get it," joked Bitty and Jack squeezed him in reply. "Jack."

"Hmm?" Jack asked.

"What just happened here?"

Jack pressed his lips into Bitty's neck. "I don't know," he said. 

Bitty turned and looked up at him. "I'm confused," said Bitty. "Back at the Haus you were…"

"An asshole?" Jack supplied.

"You were not very nice," said Bitty.

"I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse for that. Ever since I was a kid I don't think I've ever been normal when it comes to hockey, even when I took time off. I had a goal. I was going to come back to Samwell and prove that I can still do this and I can be great. You were in my way."

"And I just wanted to play hockey," said Bitty.

"You did. And I didn't care."

"So why do you care now?" Bitty asked.

Jack gently touched the side of Bitty's face and Bitty leaned into it. "I don't want you to think this is just because of what happened this morning," Jack said and then paused. Bitty could see the familiar distant look in Jack's eyes -- Jack was thinking about the explosion. Bitty couldn't get the sound and the smell out of his memory. He blinked to try to erase it. It didn't go away. Not Shitty and Lardo and the uncertainty of their death, not Ransom and Holster, who they'd lost not even twenty-four hours ago. Bitty tried to push his memory back further, back to when they were in the forest, almost happy. 

"Last night," said Bitty. "You wanted to kiss me then."

"I did," said Jack. "There's been a few times since we started sharing a tent. I remember I woke up one morning before you. I opened my eyes and there you were. The sun was on your face and your eyes were closed. You looked peaceful. I didn't know what changed or when but all of a sudden I realized I was happy you were there, and I just wanted you."

"You have me," said Bitty.

Jack smiled.

 

***

 

Once their clothes were dry they gathered their belongings and started the journey north. If they pushed it, they could get there before nightfall, but there was no sense of urgency. Jack held both the water bottle and Bitty's hand while Bitty frequently referenced their compass. When he wasn't adjusting their direction or looking at Jack, Bitty checked the trees for danger. By the time they grew hungry for lunch, the only wildlife Bitty had seen were birds.

They sat next to each other on a flat rock and shared a pouch of freeze dried beef stew. It wasn't terrible but it was nothing compared to the memory of the goose they'd eaten the night before. Bitty longed for his bow and mentally kicked himself yet again for leaving it behind. He felt very defenseless, even with Jack right next to him.

"Do you think we'll make it to Canada?" Bitty asked. 

"Yes," replied Jack.

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I'm sure of you."

Bitty blushed and Jack kissed his cheek.

Bitty had hoped that they would make it to the border before nightfall, but it was hard to tell their precise location. Even so, Bitty knew they hadn't walked thirty miles, not the way they had to divert frequently around thick areas of brush or double back when rock formations blocked the way forward. Once the sun set, Jack was the first to suggest they stop.

"We should sleep here," he said.

They didn't have a tent anymore but the rocks and hills created a fair amount of small caves. They'd passed at least a dozen spots suitable to sleep for the night, but Bitty hated how exposed each of them were. Nothing felt safe, but Bitty hadn't even noticed the way the path dipped underneath an outcrop. The dip was free of plants and leaves and the overgrown foliage blocked it mostly from view. It would have to do.

"Okay," said Bitty.

Jack unstrapped the sleeping bag and unrolled it over the dirt floor. When he began to remove his shoes, Bitty reached out and stopped him. "Don't."

"Bits."

"Just… not tonight, okay? We don't have a tent. We're not that far from where we were last attacked and we're on foot. They could be anywhere. Just keep them on."

"Okay," said Jack. He set down his spear next to the sleeping bag and climbed in, then reached out for Bitty to join him. Bitty unbuckled his backpack and set it on the ground within reach. He removed the rolling pin and hunting knife for easy access, then climbed into the sleeping bag with Jack. It was chilly now that the sun had set, but he didn't zip the side of the bag.

It hadn't been twenty seconds when Jack shifted on top of him and began to kiss him. Bitty hungrily responded, grasping onto the thick expanse Jack's back. Jack was so much bigger than him, had strong developed muscles and an ass that Bitty had been waiting to touch. "Jack," he moaned.

"I want you," said Jack. "I want… I want to be in you."

"We don't have lube," said Bitty.

He could see Jack's smile even in the dark. "You didn't pack lube?" he asked. "What kind of survivalist are you?"

"The kind that prioritizes food over lube."

Jack gently kissed him and then adjusted his body in between Bitty's legs. He rolled his hips once and Bitty moaned. "Okay maybe I should have packed it," said Bitty. Jack kissed him again and continued to roll his hips. It took a few tries, but then they were lined up and Jack rubbed his cock against Bitty's own.

"Oh my God, Jack," Bitty whined.

"Can I take your pants off? It'll feel better."

Bitty hesitated. 

"Not all the way," conceded Jack. Bitty nodded. Between them they quickly pushed their shorts and underwear down to their knees. Jack adjusted Bitty's hips and slowly thrust again. Bitty groaned loudly, which caused Jack to smile. "Is that good?" he teased.

"Yes," Bitty whined again. "Fuck, Jack."

Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty's lips and lingered there. Bitty was too lost in feeling to be able to respond, to concentrate on anything other than Jack's erect cock sliding back and forth against his own. Lube would have made it better, but Bitty hadn't thought of any realistic scenario where it would be needed. This was unexpected.

"Jack," Bitty whined again. "Jack, I'm going to come."

"Me too," whispered Jack.

He kept going until Bitty let out a strangled cry and buried his face in Jack's neck. He understood why Jack bit him earlier that day. He wanted to bite Jack as well. He wanted to writhe and keen and scream because this was more than he ever expected he could feel, and Jack made him feel it in the dirt of northern Vermont, on the cold hard ground, and made him forget for just a few minutes that he was terrified for his life.

Jack groaned and came as well, then rested his body on top of Bitty's. Bitty looked to the side, at his knife and makeshift mace and backpack all within arm's reach. His eyes filled with tears; Jack had made him forget that he needed those things.

"Hey," said Jack. "What's wrong?"

"I want this to be over," said Bitty. "I want to feel this safe all the time."

Jack let out a long sigh and kissed Bitty's neck. "Me too, Bits. Me too."

 

***

 

The following morning after breakfast, Jack and Bitty resumed the hike north. About an hour into it they came across a road for the first time. It was unmarked, but as they continued down it, Bitty noticed three houses up ahead. He stopped.

"If there's houses, there's people," said Bitty when Jack looked questioningly at him.

"We passed hundreds of houses when we left Boston. We drove by houses every day in the truck. We haven't seen a single living person since we left the Haus."

"That was in Boston. We're in the middle of nowhere and we're near the border now. There could be people here. There could be infected people here. We should go back to the woods."

"I just want to know the name of the street," said Jack. "We need to know how close we are. Once we can figure out where we are we can get back in the forest and keep going north." Bitty reluctantly agreed but took his mace out of his backpack as they crept along the road, hyper aware of their surroundings. They passed all three houses carefully and without incident, and then approached an intersection.

"Beebe," said Jack as soon as the street sign was clear enough to read. "Beebe and Jules."

It took several minutes of searching to find it, but eventually Bitty did. "Oh my God, Jack," he said. "We're so close. It can't be more than a mile or two. Look." Jack looked at the map over Bitty's shoulder.

"And my house is here," he said, pointing just outside of Montreal. "We're almost there."

"Let's go."

Jack stuffed the map in Bitty's backpack and they hurried up the road. The houses were few and far between, but even so they slowed and increased vigilance as they approached each one. Then, about a half an hour later, the number of houses increased and they could see a gate across the road ahead. Jack pulled Bitty behind a tree.

"Do you still have binoculars?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. Maybe," said Bitty.

Jack rummaged through the backpack while Bitty looked down the road toward the gate. There was movement down there. It appeared to be human.

"Yes!" said Jack. He peered through the small binoculars toward the end of the road.

"What is it?"

"Canadian border patrol," said Jack.

"There's a Canadian border patrol?" Bitty asked.

"They don't look very friendly either. Everyone has a rifle. The gate is really high and it's -- it's not even a gate. It's just a fence. They're not going to let us in. We should get back in the woods and cross over that way. That gate looks new. They can't possibly patrol the entire border."

Jack returned the binoculars to Bitty's backpack and they sneaked to the west, back into the forest. They appeared to be on the outskirts of a neighborhood so they kept to the trees and frequently veered south to avoid someone's backyard.

"This is weird," said Bitty. "There's just a street there and on the other side is Canada."

"Well it's not like they ever needed to keep people out before," said Jack. "They'd stop us if we took the highway across, but not if we took these back roads."

Bitty stopped, still obscured by a tree, and looked through someone's backyard to the street ahead. The temporary fence was visible here too, but Bitty couldn't see any patrol officers. They kept west.

A half hour later the neighborhood thinned and the forest extended north as well as west. Jack held Bitty's hand apprehensively when Bitty directed them north again, but the fence hadn't extended this far and there was no sign of anything else moving. There was no way of officially knowing when they entered Canada, but they must have after they headed straight north for ten minutes.

"Jack," Bitty said. "I think we're in."

"I think we are," said Jack. Bitty tugged him forward but Jack pulled him back. Bitty held tightly onto Jack's T-shirt and let Jack deeply and thoroughly kiss him. They were in Canada. They'd made it. "Come on," Jack said. "Let's go home."

So far Canada did not seem any different than Vermont or New Hampshire. The terrain remained the same -- hills filled with rocks, trees, and fallen leaves. There was, however, much less of a sense of urgency now that they had crossed over. Jack frequently touched Bitty's hand or waist or pulled him back for a kiss, but more than anything they continued on foot in the general direction of safety.

"Do you think they have electricity here?" Bitty asked after an hour of walking.

"Probably," said Jack.

"Maybe we can find a phone. Call your parents instead of walking to Montreal."

"That's probably a good idea. Where's the closest city?"

"I don't even know where we are anymore," said Bitty as he pulled out the map from his backpack again. While he looked for their possible location, he absently rubbed his knee.

"Do you want to stop for a bit?" Jack asked.

"No, I'm okay," said Bitty. "It's just sore. We did a lot of walking yesterday."

He continued to absently rub at his knee when he heard faint crunching from further in the trees. He froze, his blood cold, and looked at Jack. Jack turned his head toward the sound and tightened his grip on his spear.

"I thought we were in Canada," Bitty whispered.

"We just walked across," said Jack. "There was no one around. If we could just walk across so could they." Bitty quietly folded the map and returned it to his backpack, then pulled out his mace. They nodded to each other and then ran north as fast as they could.

The crunching from behind grew louder as whoever had found them picked up speed as well. Leaves coated the forest floor; it was impossible to make a sneaky escape. Bitty ran faster. His knee had been sore before but now it screamed at him with every step. He ignored it as he listened to his and Jack's footsteps as well as the crashing that drew ever closer. He pulled ahead and glanced back behind him to ensure Jack kept up. It was a mistake. He never saw the drop.

"Bitty!" Jack yelled.

Bitty crashed down the side of the hill, his body connecting hard with the earth. The impact stung but not so badly that he wouldn't be able to get up again, as long as he eventually stopped rolling. He tumbled over and over again, spinning lengthwise down the steep hill. He held tight to his mace but somewhere in the uncontrollable spiral the backpack fell off him.

He finally stopped, but the world continued to spin around him. He attempted to get to his knees but he was so dizzy he couldn't see straight. He managed to get up on his elbows only to fall again. Footsteps were approaching but he couldn't see who they belonged to. He hoped it was Jack.

It was. "Bits," said Jack. "Come on, get up."

Jack helped him to his feet but he felt drunk and uncoordinated. Jack held him upright and carried him onward. After ten or fifteen steps the world stopped spinning and he could stand on his own feet again. Jack had stopped walking.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"Look."

They were at the edge of another cliff, this one much steeper than the last. There was no hill to fall down this time, it was just a straight drop into a large lake. It went on to the left and right, as far as Bitty could see, without a good way down. If they had time they'd be able to circumnavigate it, but they didn't. The footsteps were still coming.

Bitty looked at Jack. Jack took his hand and squeezed it hard. They turned to face their pursuers, now with nothing left but a rolling pin on a rope, a skate blade taped to a hockey stick, and certain death just two steps away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned before that this story was inspired by the third piece of art in [this prompt,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980211) but I also wanted to mention that it specifically inspired the final paragraph of this chapter. Make sure you check it out!


	8. Chapter 8

"ARRÊTEZ. FREEZE."

Two men in army camouflage stood at the top of the hill. Each carried an automatic rifle which was pointed at Jack and Bitty. Bitty immediately dropped his mace and put his hands up. Jack did the same. There was no active threat here; zombies couldn't speak.

It didn't calm Bitty's erratic heartbeat, however. Neither of these men looked friendly and he and Jack had entered the country illegally. Or, at least, Bitty was in the country illegally. Jack had citizenship.

"Say something," said one of the men.

"We're just trying to get home," said Jack. The man looked at Bitty.

"We're just going to Montreal," said Bitty.

"All right, they're not infected," said the other man. "Get up here. Have you been inoculated? You don't have wristbands."

Bitty looked at Jack, who just shrugged. They carefully climbed back up the hill, which was much more difficult to get up than down. As soon as Bitty was within reach, one of the men grabbed him and sat him down, then forcefully pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and injected him with something that looked like an Epipen.

"Ow! What the hell!" Bitty yelled. "What was that?"

The man secured an orange plastic band on his right wrist, the kind they used for all inclusive packages at theme parks. It had a maple leaf and the words _inocul_ _é_ _/ inoculated_ on it. "It's the vaccine," the man said. His name was embroidered on the chest of his army fatigues. Martin. "You should be good now. Did you cross the border?"

Bitty looked at Jack for direction. Jack was rubbing his right arm with his left hand as the other soldier secured a wristband on him as well. Bitty looked for a name on his gear and found it on his backpack. Roy.

"Yes," said Jack. "We go to school in Boston. My house is in Montreal."

"No one's allowed over the border yet," said Roy. "We have to take you back. You should be safe now that you're vaccinated. You'll need to get back to Boston and check in. Once everyone's been cured we can allow international travel again. Right now it's too dangerous. Get up. We'll drive you back to Vermont."

"Can we at least call my parents?" Jack asked.

"No," said Roy. "Get up now. If you don't comply we'll have to restrain you."

"Let's just go, Jack," said Bitty.

Roy paused and looked Jack over. "You're Jack Zimmermann," he said.

"Yes," said Jack.

The two soldiers exchanged looks. Martin shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said to Roy. "No one's allowed across until we eradicate the disease."

"And what's going to happen when we do? Do you want to be the one who didn't let _Bad Bob Zimmermann's_ son back into the country?"

Roy and Martin stared each other down until Martin finally sighed.

"Fine. We'll take them back to base. You can call your parents there," Martin said to Jack. Martin grabbed Bitty by the arm and pulled him up, then they were forcefully ushered to a nearby vehicle. Once buckled in, Jack took Bitty's hand.

The base was just a large warehouse filled with soldiers in the same camouflage uniform. As soon as they arrived Martin disappeared but Roy sat them down on a bench. "Let me get you a change of clothes. Are you hungry? When was the last time you ate?"

"We ate this morning," said Bitty.

"I'll grab you something from the vending machine. Wait here."

The base was bustling with activity but it looked like no other civilians were there. The lights in the hallway were on. Everything looked normal, except every person they saw wore the same bright orange wristband to signify that they had been inoculated. Even though he and Jack were the only ones without the uniform on, no one gave them a second glance.

Roy returned with two sets of clothes and sandwiches wrapped in plastic. "There's an office down here with a phone you can use. You can wait there until someone comes to get you." He handed Jack one set of clothes and Bitty the other. They followed him down the hall and into the office. Roy closed the blinds to give them privacy and then left without another word.

Bitty burst into tears. Jack immediately dropped his clothes and wrapped his arms around Bitty. "It's okay, Bits," he said. "It's over."

"But Ransom and Shitty and everyone -- everyone's dead. Everyone died except for us and they had a stupid vaccine all this time!"

"You don't know that. You don't know how long they've had it. Calm down."

Bitty cried and Jack simply held him until he was calm enough to let go. Jack gently kissed him and then picked up his clothes from the ground. Bitty stripped, leaving his shoes and socks on, and put on the ill-fitting gray army sweatpants and brown T-shirt. He threw his other clothes in the garbage.

Once Jack changed he sat at the desk and picked up the phone. Bitty sat on the couch. It was firm but more comfortable than anything he'd sat on in weeks.

" _Maman?_ " Jack said into the receiver. The rest of his words were in French. Bitty didn't need to understand them to know what Jack said; Jack's eyes filled with tears and within seconds he was just as hysterical as Bitty had been moments before. Bitty quickly stood from the couch and hopped into Jack's lap. Jack pulled him close as he continued to speak to his mother in French.

"Okay," Jack said eventually. "Okay, _Maman_. Bye."

Jack hung up the phone and Bitty squeezed him. "They're okay?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah. They've been home this whole time. They're on their way to get us."

"Okay," said Bitty. "Are you okay?"

"She started crying right away," said Jack. "I didn't expect that."

Bitty rested his head on Jack's chest. Jack leaned back in the desk chair and put his feet up. They both closed their eyes.

The door opened and Bitty jumped; he hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. Roy entered with Jack's parents in tow. Bitty jumped up from Jack's lap and Jack, who had also been asleep, ran over to his mother first, who hugged him tightly. Jack let go and hugged his father as well.

"I'm so happy you're okay," said Jack's mother.

" _Maman_ ," said Jack. "This is Eric. He's on my team." Bitty sheepishly stepped forward and waved. To his surprise, Jack's mother pulled him in for a hug as well.

"I'm happy you're safe too," she said and then let go of him. "I'm Alicia. This is my husband Bob."

"Nice to meet you, son," said Bob and he shook Bitty's hand.

"Did you call your parents yet?" Alicia asked.

Bitty shook his head. "I didn't try. They're in Georgia. Can we call Georgia yet?" Bitty looked at Roy, who had been standing quietly by the door.

"It's hit or miss at this point," said Roy. "Some places have signal restored but not everywhere. It depends where they are and if the towers around them have been reactivated."

"We'll go home and you can try on the way," said Bob. "You can stay with us until it's safe to go back."

Jack turned back to Bitty and reached out for his hand. Bitty took it and they followed Jack's parents off the base and to the car. Alicia offered Jack the front seat but he declined, opting to sit in the back with Bitty. As soon as they were out of the parking lot Alicia handed Bitty her phone. He quickly dialed his mother's phone number, surprised that he remembered it this time.

It went straight to voicemail. He tried his father's, but the result was the same. His parents had gone to his uncle's house, so the home phone would be useless. He couldn't think of anyone else.

"I'm sure they're fine," said Alicia. "Like they said, not all the towers have been restored."

"They were going to my Uncle Jeffrey's cabin. Cell phone service is spotty there even on a normal day," said Bitty.

"Well there you go," said Alicia. "You can try again tomorrow. Right now I think you both just need a soft bed and a hot shower."

Jack discreetly rubbed the inside of Bitty's thigh, close to his knee. Bitty smiled half-heartedly at him. From the front seat, Alicia started to speak again. "They're saying on the news that it'll take weeks to make sure everyone is rounded up and vaccinated. It's been contained just to the continental US and they've got the whole military and national guard out looking for people. Trudeau said he's sending the Primary Reserve down there to help. I'm just so glad you two were able to make it over the border and you're not still out there. When did you leave Samwell?"

" _Maman_ , please, not now," said Jack.

She reached behind her and patted him on the leg. "You're okay, Jack. You too, Eric. You're safe now."

It wasn't easy to believe. All throughout the ninety minute drive to the house, Bitty clung tightly to Jack's hand. Bitty did not know much about Jack's family. The name _Bad Bob Zimmermann_ had been thrown around at practice once or twice, enough to know that Jack's father was a big deal, but Bitty didn't know in what capacity. It was clear, however, that the family had money, both from their luxury vehicle and the literal mansion that Bob pulled up to. Bitty couldn't stop staring but on the other side of the car, Jack looked more relaxed than Bitty had ever seen him. Bitty wished he could feel that way too.

They entered the house and within moments Bitty understood why the rest of the team knew Bob's name; hockey memorabilia jumped out at Bitty from every corner. It wasn't obnoxious or boastful, but in no way did Bob hide his career in his home. Bitty particularly enjoyed the line of family photos as he and Jack went up the stairs; in almost every one either Jack or Bob had hockey gear on. The best of the bunch by far was of baby Jack sitting in the Stanley Cup while Bob and Alicia looked on.

"After you boys get cleaned up I'll make dinner," said Alicia. Bitty looked up the stairs and didn't realize he had lingered while looking at photos. Jack was just one step away but Alicia had already made it to the top. Jack pulled him forward and they climbed up, Bitty's knee protesting every action. Once on the second floor Jack headed toward a room on the left of the hallway. Alicia gestured to a room on the right. "You can sleep in here, Eric."

Bitty looked desperately at Jack, who had stopped and turned back to him. Jack turned back at his mother.

"Why can't he sleep in my room?" Jack asked.

"Don't be silly, Jack. We have a perfectly good guest room," said Alicia. Jack tightened his grip on Bitty and Bitty squeezed back. Alicia's eyes drifted to their connected hands. Her eyebrows raised but she otherwise didn't react. "Okay," she conceded. "Eric, Jack's clothes are obviously too big for you and since we don't know how long it'll be before you can go home, I'll take you shopping tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," said Bitty. "I can just wear Jack's clothes."

"I don't know what you two have been through these past few weeks, but it sounds like it hasn't been easy. You're safe here. You should be comfortable as well. We'll get you clothes and we'll get you in touch with your parents as soon as it's possible. This is your home now. Don't let yourself feel like an outsider."

"Thank you," said Bitty.

"Of course. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Jack opened the door to his room and they walked inside. It was exactly what Bitty expected; overflowing with hockey equipment, posters, and shelves full of history books. Jack finally let go of Bitty's hand and walked to his dresser on the opposite side of the room.

"I'm going to take a shower," Jack announced. "What about you?"

"Yeah," said Bitty reluctantly. "I should."

Jack approached him. "Are you okay?" Jack asked. He nodded over to a door in the corner of the room. "The bathroom's connected. Do you want to stay in here while I shower or do you want to join me?"

It wasn't a suggestive request. Jack knew exactly how Bitty felt; they were inside a comfortable house with no immediate threat, but the last thing Bitty wanted to do was let Jack out of his sight.

"Let's do it together," said Bitty.

Jack picked out two sets of clothes from his dresser and placed them on the counter in the bathroom. Bitty followed and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. He looked at his shoes. The soles were caked in mud and the laces were stiff from dried dirt. Bitty took one long, rattled breath and then began to untie them.

 

***

 

After dinner Jack and Bitty returned to Jack's room and collapsed into his bed. Bitty rested his head on Jack's bare chest. It was quiet in the house. Jack's parents had not yet gone to sleep. It was much too early for that, however Bitty had struggled to keep his eyes open at the dinner table. Neither he nor Jack had truly slept in weeks. Bitty expected to fall asleep as soon as he lay down, but instead he could feel himself search for sounds.

Jack had a firm grasp on him. He could hear Jack's familiar, rhythmic breathing within minutes. Bitty, however, stared at the clock on the nightstand and watched the time tick away. Eventually Bob and Alicia's footsteps sounded up the stairs. They stopped in front of Jack's room. Bitty held his breath as he watched their shadows underneath the door.

"Let them sleep, Alicia," said Bob's quiet voice.

"Do you think they're okay?"

"I'm sure they're fine."

"No, but _really_ okay?" The shadows under the door moved and the voices grew fainter as they walked down the hall. "I think we should call Dr. Montreau in the morning. Get an appointment for both of them."

"You're not Eric's mother, Alicia," said Bob.

"He doesn't have a mother right now."

The door down the hall shut with a click and Jack bolted upright in the bed. Bitty placed both of his hands on Jack's chest to push him back down. His heart was beating wildly in his chest.

"What was that?" Jack asked in a strained whisper.

"It's okay, Jack," replied Bitty. "It was just your parents going to sleep. Lie back down."

Jack collapsed back onto his pillow and pulled Bitty close to him. Bitty rested his hand on the center of Jack's chest. Jack's heartbeat continued at an elevated rate but his breathing was beginning to regulate. When Bitty looked up at him, tears were beginning to slide out the corners of his eyes. Jack put his hand over his face.

Bitty didn't know what to say. He kissed the closest area he could reach, which happened to be Jack's collarbone, and waited for Jack to calm. Eventually they both fell asleep.

The following day Jack accompanied Bitty and Alicia as they went clothes shopping, then Bitty attempted to call his parents again. Both attempts went directly to voicemail, but this time Bitty left a message explaining his situation. When they arrived back to Jack's house, Bob was waiting for them.

"I signed out the rink today," he said. "If you want to skate it out a bit."

"Bobby, they've just been through a very traumatic experience, I doubt --"

"Yes," said Jack and Bitty together.

Alicia rolled her eyes.

Twenty minutes later Jack and Bitty were lacing up on a bench of the local youth hockey arena. Jack had his own gear, of course, and the youth league had skates and pads in Bitty's size. Bob was already on the ice. When Jack finished tying his hockey pants he looked down at Bitty, who was still strapping on elbow pads.

"How's your knee?" Jack asked.

"It's fine," said Bitty. "Maybe don't have me run suicides, cap."

"If you think I'm going to go easy on you just because you're cute, you have another thing coming," teased Jack and he smacked Bitty's hand that was attempting to attach the pad to his right elbow. It fell out of his hand and onto the floor.

"Jack!" said Bitty with fake indignation.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Jack. He picked up the pad from the floor and strapped it on for Bitty. Bitty then pulled a jersey over his head and picked up his skates. Jack hopped over the board and paused there.

"What's the matter?" Bitty asked.

"Nothing," said Jack with a shake of his head. "It's just… It's ice. Not water."

Bitty smiled at him. "Not water," he said. Jack jumped onto the ice and spun in slow, wide circles, his eyes focused down, watching his blades cut through the white sheet below him. Bitty joined him, gently rubbed his back, and didn't comment on the tears in Jack's eyes.

They skated a lap to warm up, side by side, until Jack looked at Bitty and teased, "I thought you said your knee was fine?"

"Oh, I didn't realize this was a competition, Mr. Zimmermann," said Bitty and he picked up speed. Half a lap later Jack trailed far behind and Bitty laughed, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty arena. Bob had been watching them, but as they continued and Bitty pulled further ahead, he skated to the bench and picked up the bucket of pucks they'd brought with them to the ice.

Bitty knew it was going to happen. He saw Bob pick up the bucket as he passed. He saw Bob tip it over. He wasn't, however, prepared for the sound of a hundred pucks hitting the ice in an echoey arena. Bitty immediately dropped to his knees and put his mitts over his ears. On the other side of the ice, Jack did the same.

Bitty panicked. Jack was two hundred feet away. The echoing had stopped but there was no way he'd be able to get to Jack in time. He attempted to get up but his knee gave out and he fell back down to the ice. Bob stood at the center dot, his eyes wide.

"Boys, it's okay," he called. "It was just pucks. We're fine."

Bitty attempted to get up again. This time he successfully did so and skated as fast as he could across the rink, past Bob, and to Jack, who remained behind the net, his hands over his ears. Bitty collapsed onto him.

"It's okay," Bitty whispered. "It's okay. We're okay."

"Fuck," Jack said. "Bits." Bitty could feel Jack's whole body shaking.

"You're okay, honey. Breathe."

Jack breathed. Bitty lay upon his back and held him around the chest, measuring how productive his recovery was. Jack slowly composed himself and sat up. Bitty slid off Jack's back and onto the ice but didn't let go of him.

"Okay," said Jack. "Bits. I'm fine."

"What if I'm not?" Bitty asked.

"Then don't let me go."

They knelt there on the ice, obscured by the goalie net, until both Jack and Bitty agreed to separate. Jack helped Bitty up onto his feet, then they slowly skated back to Bob, who sat on the bench, his phone in his hands. Jack skid to a stop in front of him.

"Are you telling on me?" Jack asked.

"Your mother's worried about you," said Bob.

"Because you told her to be worried," said Jack. "We're fine."

Bob raised his eyebrows.

"Can we just shoot these pucks around?" Jack asked. Bob handed him a stick, which Jack handed to Bitty. Bitty turned and picked up a puck, which he juggled toward the far net. He heard Jack's skates clack behind him and swing over to his left.

Jack's stick tapped the ice. "Here," Jack said.

Bitty turned and passed the puck to Jack. He caught it on the tape of his stick and flicked it to the net. It sailed directly into the center.

"Nice," said Bitty.

"You didn't even look at me," said Jack.

"I knew you were there," said Bitty. "Come on, Jack. Are we playing or are we talking?" Jack smiled and fetched another puck.

They played for hours, longer than Bitty had ever been on the ice for one period of time. Once the immediate threat subsided and Jack and Bitty began to click, it was easy to forget how they got there and remember how they met in the first place. Unlike their first meeting, however, Jack smiled the entire time.

"You two work well together," said Bob after he shot another puck at Bitty, who weaved around a set of cones and passed back to Jack through his legs. Bitty skated to Bob as Jack shot the puck into the net. "They should try you on a line together when you go back to Samwell," Bob continued.

Bitty's smile faltered. "Do you think there's going to be a Samwell to go back to?" he asked.

"If there isn't, there are schools in town that would take you," said Bob. "Especially if you pass like that."

"Thanks, Bob," said Bitty. "That means a lot, but you haven't seen me take a check yet."

"If you can survive a gas station explosion, you can survive a check," Jack said. Bob's expression quickly turned to confusion.

"There was an explosion?" Bob asked.

"There was a lot," said Jack. He quickly picked up another puck with his stick. "Come on, Bits." Jack headed back off to the goal, his skates clacking against the ice as he picked up speed. Bitty followed close behind.

 

***

 

Before sunset Bitty wandered into the empty kitchen and began pulling out food for dinner. Jack sat at the island, his temple propped up with his hand while he watched. Bitty was halfway through a chicken pot pie when Alicia came in.

"What's going on in here?" she asked.

"I'm making y'all dinner," said Bitty.

"Eric, you don't have to worry about that. I can make dinner."

"Nope," said Bitty. "You've been so kind to me these past few days, the least I could do is make dinner."

"His pie is great, _Maman_. Everything he makes is great."

"Including freeze-dried beef stew?" Bitty teased.

"You rehydrate a mean beef stew, bud," said Jack.

Bitty laughed. "This will be better," he said.

Alicia joined Jack at the island to watch. Bitty had just secured the top crust of the pie when her phone vibrated on the counter. She looked at it, confused, and then picked it up. "Hello?" Bitty opened the oven and slid in the pie. "Eric. It's your mother."

The oven door snapped shut as Bitty flipped around. He grabbed the phone from Alicia and quickly put it to his ear. "Mama! Are you okay?"

"Dicky! Oh thank the Lord! Yes, we're okay. We're still at your Uncle Jeffrey's cabin. The power came back this morning and I just got your message. Where are you right now?"

"We're in Canada at Jack's house," said Bitty.

"Who's Jack?"

Bitty looked across the island at Jack. His eyes were half-lidded, looking at Bitty like he had that night under the stars, before they tried to kiss. In the two days that they had been in Montreal, Bitty had not left his side. How could Suzanne not know who Jack was?

"He's my…" Bitty paused. "He's my captain. From the hockey team."

"I'm so glad they took you in, sweetie. We've been watching the news. Flights are resuming next week. You should come home."

Bitty stared at Jack. His smile faltered.

"Um, sure," said Bitty.

"What's the matter, Dicky?" Suzanne asked.

"Nothing, nothing," said Bitty. "I'm so happy you're safe. Listen, Mama, I'm making dinner and I've got to get back to it. I'll call you later tonight and we'll talk it through, okay? Let me know when you go home."

"Okay, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, Mama."

Bitty hung up the phone and handed it back to Alicia. "Are they okay?" Alicia asked.

"Yeah," said Bitty. "They're still at my Uncle Jeffrey's cabin." He looked at Jack again. "They said flights are resuming next week. I can go home then."

"Oh, wonderful!" said Alicia.

This was not the first time Bitty had seen this look on Jack's face, but the last time it was directed at him after he failed to take a check during practice. This wasn't directed at him. This wasn't directed at anyone. Jack stood and walked to the sliding glass door, where he looked outside into the darkness and didn't say anything. Bitty turned back to the oven and started the timer.

They didn't speak about it until after dinner. Jack headed up the stairs and Bitty followed close behind. Jack entered the bedroom and sat down. Bitty waited by the door.

"I don't want to go home," Bitty said.

Jack gestured for him. When he approached, Jack pulled Bitty down into his lap. Bitty rested his head on Jack's shoulder and let Jack hold him close.

"I don't want you to go home," said Jack. "But you need to go home."

"Why? What's there?"

"Your family."

"They're fine," said Bitty. "I can't tell them about you. I can't tell them anything about this. They wouldn't understand."

"Bits," Jack whispered and he pressed his lips into Bitty's neck.

"What am I going to do there?" Bitty asked. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. "What if it's not really over? What if I go there and I don't come back? What if I'm okay and you're not? I can't leave you."

"I know," said Jack. "I don't want you to leave."

"Then let me stay," whispered Bitty. He touched Jack's face and drew it back to him. Jack kissed him; Bitty knew Jack's answer right away. "Please, Jack."

"It's over, Bits," Jack whispered. "And even if it's not, we've been vaccinated. I have enough hockey sticks and extra blades to defend myself." Bitty laughed mirthlessly. Jack rested his head against Bitty's. "Don't leave me for long. Come back home soon."

"No, not for long," said Bitty.

Jack kissed him again. Bitty responded with enthusiasm and Jack fell backward onto the bed. He quickly rolled them over and worked on the buckle of Bitty's belt. Within seconds Bitty's jeans were on the floor. Bitty removed his shirt and then pulled Jack's off as well. Jack shed his own pants before he climbed back on top of Bitty.

"Jack," whispered Bitty. "I want you."

A smirk appeared on Jack's lips.

"We have lube now," he said. Jack rubbed Bitty's thighs and in return Bitty began to kiss Jack's neck. "Okay?" Jack asked. "You want to do this?"

"Yes," Bitty said. "You make me feel safe."

"You are safe," said Jack.

"Then make love to me," said Bitty.

Jack sunk to his knees at the edge of the bed and pulled Bitty's body toward him. He quickly removed Bitty's underwear and spread his legs apart. Bitty braced himself for the first touch; he had never explored himself this way but had always wondered what a finger (or even more) would feel like in there, but there was no immediate intrusion. Instead it was a soft, wet kiss that caused all of Bitty's limbs to turn to mush.

"Oh my God, Jack," moaned Bitty, far too loudly. He grabbed a pillow and put it over his face. Jack continued to lick him, Bitty's legs draped over his shoulders. Bitty bit down hard on the pillow to keep himself from making another sound. This was more than he imagined and if Jack didn't change it up soon, he'd go from blissfully aroused to completely finished in a matter of seconds.

He removed the pillow from his face. "Jack, stop," Bitty said.

Jack sat back on his heels. "Not good?" he asked.

"Too good," said Bitty. "I don't want to come so fast."

Jack looked pleased with himself. Bitty kicked him, which caused Jack to chuckle. He opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of lube. Bitty watched as Jack coated his fingers with it and leaned forward again.

"This won't be as good. Not right away," Jack said. "Just relax for me."

Bitty put the pillow over his face again and lay back. Jack's tongue had been tantalizing, but Jack's finger, while careful, felt overwhelming immediately. Bitty breathed and bit down on the pillow, letting Jack slowly and gently work him open. It was agonizing; it felt uncomfortable and intrusive and not what Bitty expected. Then, after Jack had worked in two of his unnecessarily large fingers, he hit Bitty's prostate on the way out.

His hips instinctively lifted off the bed and his erection, which had lagged since Jack's tongue went away, popped right back up. Jack chuckled again.

"There?" he asked.

"Yes," Bitty said into the pillow.

Jack brushed it again and Bitty moaned. The agony shifted; instead of not enjoying himself, he desperately wanted more. He reached down with his right hand and took hold of his erection, then gave it one pump.

"You're almost ready," Jack said. "Hold on just another minute."

"Go faster," said Bitty.

Jack did not go faster. Bitty bucked his hips with impatience but Jack prepared him diligently, which Bitty appreciated a minute later when Jack rested his body in between Bitty's legs and pressed the tip of his cock against him. It wasn't even in and it already felt huge.

Jack removed the pillow from Bitty's face and threw it to the side. "You ready?" he asked. Bitty nodded, his eyes closed, focusing purely on the pressure between his legs. "Bits. Look at me." Bitty opened his eyes. "You'll be home soon. Home for real."

"You'll be waiting for me?" Bitty asked.

"Every day."

Jack rested his forehead against Bitty's and then pushed in. Bitty grimaced and Jack paused. Bitty quickly shook his head. "No, keep going." Jack was patient and careful, giving Bitty time to adjust, and then, once he finally relaxed, began to move in shallow thrusts.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

It was more than okay. Once he got used to the fullness and the unfamiliar stretch, Bitty felt everything else -- Jack's lips on his neck, Jack's hands on his thighs, Jack's breath on his skin. Bitty wrapped himself tightly around Jack and kissed him.

"Yes," whispered Bitty.

Jack began to thrust in earnest. Each movement was accompanied by a breath or a kiss or a whine, and it was no longer solely about Bitty's comfort. Bitty could respond now, think about how Jack felt, give him kisses and caresses and touches as he rocked his way to pleasure inside of Bitty's body. This was the closest they had been, a complete connection to make up for the separation that was about to occur.

With every thrust, Jack's stomach rubbed against Bitty's erect cock. Their bodies were so close together that every moment was a new kind of frottage that had Bitty panting and attempting to silence, knowing Jack's parents were just downstairs. There was no saving the sound he made as his orgasm approached; he bit down on Jack's shoulder and came between their bodies just moments before Jack stilled inside of him.

They relaxed; Bitty's legs fell onto the bed, Jack's body flopped on top of Bitty's, and they breathed hard. Once he could see more than just stars, Bitty laced their fingers. They looked into each other's eyes.

"Come home soon," said Jack.

It made it all the more difficult to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

Getting home was a logistical nightmare. Bitty had no identification whatsoever and thus couldn't leave the country. His passport was at home in Madison, but mail was still unreliable. Unfortunately while flights into the United States had resumed, flights out of the United States were still restricted, so Suzanne and Coach were forced to fly as close to the border as possible and drive over to Montreal since a few of the land ports of entry had reopened.

Bitty met them at the airport, carrying one duffel bag of the clothing that Alicia had purchased for him. Jack was not there. They said their goodbye at the house, a long, tearful farewell that required Bob to physically restrain Jack when Bitty entered the car alone. Bitty stared at Jack through the window until he couldn't see him any longer and cried the rest of the way to the airport.

"Bob and I will keep him safe," Alicia had said. "You don't have to protect him anymore."

In the airport Suzanne ran directly to Bitty and threw her arms around her son, holding him tightly against her. "Dicky," she said over and over again. "Dicky, I'm so happy. I'm so happy you're here."

After several minutes of gratitude directed toward Alicia, who waved off every comment with a smile and an "Of course!" or "It was nothing!", Bitty followed his parents to their flight. Suzanne barely let go of him, even through security. The feeling was familiar, but this wasn't how Bitty felt with Jack. Her mollycoddling was frustrating and unwelcome.

Coach seemed to pick up on it first. "Let him be, Suzie," he said. "The boy's eighteen years old."

"Even so, I'm not letting you out of my sight again," said Suzanne. "We spoke to the hockey coach at Georgia -- your father knows him from way back when -- and he says there are bound to be spots on his team next semester. If you're still wanting to play, that is. I know you had some doubts before all of this started. It's fine if you want to stay home too, you know. Take a year off."

"Wait, what?" Bitty asked. He stopped walking in the center of the concourse, people passing him on either side. They were still ten gates away from their plane.

"Georgia!" said Suzanne. "You can live at home and commute."

"I'm going back to Samwell," said Bitty.

"Don't be silly, Dicky," said Suzanne. "It's a thousand miles away."

"And it's where I go to school," said Bitty. "I'm going back when they reopen the campus."

Suzanne gave him a smile and pat his face. "We'll talk about it, honey. No reason to make a decision now. Let's just go home, okay?"

Bitty watched her walk away. He felt cold all over. He had his passport in his hand, ten outfits in a duffel bag, and Jack just across town, unprotected and still unable to sleep through the night. There was no reason to keep walking.

Coach placed a hand on his back and ushered him forward. Bitty cursed his legs for complying. Discussion about school stayed behind at Gate 48. Seven hours later they pulled up to their house in Madison, but Bitty felt no pleasure upon seeing it. The neighborhood looked normal, just the same it was when Bitty left for college a few months before. Even the inside of the house was the same, as if the apocalypse had never happened. Bitty walked through the kitchen and directly to his bedroom. Suzanne began talking to him from the hallway. He shut the door, fell onto his bed, and closed his eyes.

A quiet knock sounded on his door several hours later. He woke with a start and tumbled off his bed onto the floor. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He took in several deep breaths, climbed back onto his bed, and said, "Come in."

Suzanne cracked open the door. "Hey sweetie," she said. "Do you want dinner?"

"Sure," said Bitty. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You must be exhausted after all that; if you want I can keep a plate warm and you can sleep a little longer."

"No, I don't want to sleep anymore," said Bitty. He followed her out of the room and down the hall. When they arrived in the kitchen, Suzanne handed him a new cell phone without a case.

"I got you this," she said. "I wasn't sure if you lost yours along the way, but I know how you are about your phone." Bitty looked at it; his phone was still in his dorm room at Samwell, but at least this one was an upgrade.

"Thanks," said Bitty. He sat at the kitchen table next to Coach and accepted a large amount of chicken and potatoes. As he shoved the food into his face, he stared out the sliding glass door and into the yard. His eyes flickered between the trees. Nothing moved. Then a squirrel ran out of the brush and Bitty jumped to his feet.

"Honey?" Suzanne asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Bitty. He looked at the fork gripped tightly in his fist. It was useless against a hoard of fast-moving zombies, but it could cause some serious damage to the squirrel. Bitty looked at both of his parents; his father looked alarmed and his mother had tears in her eyes. "Sorry," Bitty said and sat back down.

"Honey, did something happen on the way to Jack's house?" Suzanne asked.

He saw Ollie trip over the tree branch and get dragged backwards toward the campsite. He saw Wicky tackled to the ground by an ex-person with only one arm. He saw the roof of Ransom and Holster's tent collapse from the weight on it. He saw the truck go up in flames and smelled the burning gasoline in his nostrils. He saw the world spin over and over again as he fell down the hill to what he had assumed was his death.

"No," said Bitty.

"Good," said Suzanne, although she and Coach exchanged a look. "Your Uncle Jeffrey really has a nice cabin, you know. We were talking about maybe getting our own on the other side of the lake. It was so quiet and peaceful. It'd be kind of pointless without a boat, so we'll have to talk that through too, but if you're going to Georgia we can use that extra money we would have saved for the rest of your tuition."

"I'm going back to Samwell," said Bitty.

"Dicky --"

"I'm going back to Samwell," said Bitty, louder. He dropped his fork onto the table, pushed his plate away, and then left. He collapsed onto his bed and dialed Alicia's phone number on his new phone. 

"Hello?"

Bitty relaxed at the sound of her voice.

"Hi Alicia," he said. "It's Eric. Can I talk to Jack?"

"Of course! Did you get home okay?"

"Yep," said Bitty.

"We're going to the store in the morning to replace his phone. I'll text you his number as soon as we get it. Here he is. Jack, it's Eric."

"Hey," said Jack.

"Hey," said Bitty in return.

"Are you home?"

"Yes," said Bitty. "It's awful here."

"I know," said Jack. "I spoke to Coach Murray earlier today. They said they're going to reopen next semester. This one's kind of a lost cause, being October already, and not everyone is accounted for."

Bitty's breath came in sharply and Jack paused for a long time.

"I'll go back just after New Year's," Jack eventually said.

"That's two months away," said Bitty.

"People need to heal. We need to heal, Bits. We need to find a safe place."

"I don't even know where that is anymore," said Bitty. "I know it's not here. I know it's not away from you."

"We'll find it. We'll be okay."

Bitty covered his eyes with his hand and took in a rattled breath.

"We'll be okay," Jack repeated.

 

***

 

On January third Bitty flew from Atlanta to Boston. It had been a lonely and quiet two months in Madison spent mostly sleeping too much or driving the country roads searching for something that he couldn't define. Every day began in the afternoon, usually with Bitty's rehab appointments for his sprained knee. Every night ended on the phone with Jack. Bitty was antsy to see Jack the whole time, culminating in the excessive checking and re-checking of his phone in the taxi from the airport.

The campus looked the same. When the taxi pulled up in front of his dorm, he stepped out and saw several people bustling about, bundled in their winter clothes, hurrying indoors. Bitty gripped his bag to his chest as he watched them from the corner of his eye. No one paid him any attention. No one shuffled in his direction.

He ran inside; it was freezing.

His suitemates weren't back yet. Classes didn't start until Monday, but there was practice on Saturday and Bitty didn't want to spend another minute in Georgia if he didn't have to. Bitty paused outside his room. The door was still open. The attacks began the morning after his initiation, after he had been kidnapped by Ransom and Holster in this room. They hadn't shut the door. He wanted to be mad at them. He couldn't be mad at them.

Bitty carefully opened the door and peered around the corner. Even with the apocalypse and a campus deserted for months, no one had bothered to loot it. It was a welcome surprise to see all of his belongings there just as he'd left them: an unmade bed, a mostly-shut laptop, his hockey gear scattered on the floor, his old phone face-down on the desk. Senor Bun poked out from underneath his pillow. Bitty dropped his bag on the floor and ran to pick him up. He hugged his favorite stuffed animal close to his body.

"I'm so sorry I left you behind," Bitty murmured as he squeezed Senor Bun. "You didn't want to go where I went. It's no place for a little Bun like you."

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he jumped. Senor Bun toppled back onto the bed. Bitty carefully tucked Bun back under the covers before he looked at his phone.

      **Jack**  
     You get in yet?  
  
      **Jack**  
     We're all at the Haus waiting for you  
  
Bitty frowned at the message, confused, but he picked up his keys and walked out the door anyway. He didn't know Jack's parents were planning to drive down with him, but Bitty was happy to see them again. He locked his room behind him and headed across campus, his face buried in his scarf, until he arrived at the Haus. A narrow path had been shoveled through the snow. He hopped over the patches of ice and opened the front door. He could hear voices in the kitchen so he turned to the left only to stop in his tracks.

Lardo, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster all sat at the kitchen table with Jack.

"What the hell?" Bitty said.

"SURPRISE BITCH!" yelled Shitty. "WE'RE ALIVE!"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Bitty yelled again. Ransom and Holster leapt out of their seats and enveloped Bitty in a two-sided hug that lifted him off the ground. Bitty could feel the tears on his face and hid in Ransom's T-shirt until they subsided. Holster rubbed his shoulders aggressively in an awkward attempt to comfort him. Once he could breathe again, Bitty hugged Ransom tightly, then Holster, then Shitty (who also kissed his face), and finally Lardo.

"Someone explain," said Bitty. He wiped his eyes and sat where Shitty had been.

"We got vaccinated, bro," said Lardo. She lifted her right arm to display her orange plastic wristband. Hers was labeled with the American flag and had no French translation.

"You were dead," said Bitty.

"Nah, just diseased," said Lardo. "Took a while but we got all cured up."

Bitty looked at the four of them and, upon closer inspection, realized they were all a little worse for wear. Lardo's hair was still cropped short but faded burn scars traveled from inside the sleeve of her sweater and up the side of her neck. Shitty did not have any visible burn scars -- which meant he probably didn't have any at all, since despite the freezing temperatures outside, he was still only wearing underpants -- but was missing half of his mustache. The skin where his mustache should have been was a different color, as if it had been reconstructed. Ransom and Holster looked okay from what Bitty could see of them, but everyone had the too-thin look of prolonged malnourishment.

"It's not so bad, Bits," said Lardo quietly.

"Speak for yourself," said Ransom. "I had to recover from an arrow to the leg."

Bitty winced. "Sorry," he said.

"Nah, bro, you did what you had to do. Holster's got a whole chunk taken out of his arm. It could've been worse."

"It just gives me character," said Holster and he touched his right arm just above the elbow; even with his long-sleeved shirt it was obvious that he was missing part of it. "Still works. I can still play. Better than Ollie and Wicky."

"What happened to Ollie and Wicky?" Bitty asked.

"Bros lost their hands," said Ransom. "Their  _ fist-bumping _ hands. They're pissed as fuck. We're going to have to replace them."

"And Johnson," said Jack. "I talked to him yesterday. He's not coming back."

"Is he okay?" Bitty asked.

"He was kind of vague about it," said Jack. "Said something about how it was better for us if he stayed home. He gave you his dibs." Everyone in the room groaned. Shitty threw the salt shaker across the room. Bitty furrowed his brows as he waited for an explanation. "His room, Bits. You have his room."

"Oh, awesome!" said Bitty. "I hate my dorm room. That sucks about Johnson, though. Did the Chads at least apologize for turning him?"

"No, they're all dead," said Ransom.

"Oh," said Bitty. "Okay. Who wants pie?"

Five hands went into the air so Bitty opened the fridge only to groan in frustration.

"You STILL don't have any food!" he yelled.

Two hours and two pies later, Bitty finally cleaned up the kitchen and headed to the stairs to check out his new room. There were a few boxes packed with clothes and books and other belongings, but it looked like Johnson planned to leave behind a decent amount of furniture. As Bitty checked out the closet and his new bed, a quiet knock in the doorway drew his full attention.

"Jack!" Bitty said. "Hi!"

"Hey," said Jack tentatively. "You're going to be right across the hall from me."

Bitty looked behind Jack to the open door. He'd forgotten that Jack's room was right there.

"Oh. Right."

They stood several feet apart. Jack dug his toe into the floor and looked away. Bitty was unsure what to do. They fell asleep together on the phone just the night before. A few weeks before that, Bitty was afraid to be apart from him.

"That seems so far away," Bitty said. Jack looked back at him and nodded, but made no attempt to come closer. "Jack…"

"I know it was an extreme situation. Everything felt bigger and more intense than normal. It still feels like that sometimes. It still feels like something could jump out at me at any moment. I understand if you want to move on and try to adjust."

"Adjust to what?" Bitty asked.

"Life. Normal life. I get it if that means… if that means you're not with me."

Bitty drew in a sharp breath and took a step back. His legs hit the desk and he grabbed it for support. "Do you not want to be with me?" he asked.

"I do!" said Jack quickly. "I just get it if you can't. It'll be hard, especially if you're living right here. It'll be hard seeing you and knowing how much I care about you, and what it feels like to be with you and… and to love you. It's not like before, when I didn't realize how much you mean to me. How I can still be somebody in a world where hockey doesn't exist. It'll be… fuck, it'll be awful, Bitty. Don't make me do it. Don't make me go another day without you right here with me."

Bitty burst into tears. "Jack, come here, please," he cried. Jack rushed forward and gathered Bitty in his arms, kissing him on the mouth just once before Bitty let out another sob. Bitty clung as close as possible to him. "Don't ever leave me again."

"No, never," said Jack.

Jack kissed him again. Bitty responded hungrily, wanting to be as close to him as possible, until a shout from the hallway separated them.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Shitty yelled.

Jack turned and Bitty looked around him toward the door. Shitty stood in the hallway, now fully dressed, with his hands on his hips but a smirk on his face. Lardo stood next to him.

"That's a fine," she said. "As many dollars as you have in the sin bin. We've got to save up enough to replace all the furniture you idiots destroyed when you barricaded the place."

"Fuck, brah, you die for a couple of months and all of a sudden your best bro is making out with frogs," said Shitty. "Bits? You cool with this?"

"Yes," said Bitty.

"You gotta check, you know," said Shitty. "Even when someone's a zombie you can't just go around kissing them and expect not to get your lip bitten off."

"Lardo, did you bite Shits's mustache off?" Jack asked.

"Zombies can't consent. Had to teach the perv a lesson," said Lardo with a shrug.

"I should have known better. Consent is key in every situation," replied Shitty. "Anyway, come on. We're going to Faber. I want to watch the sunset. Should be hella romantic."

Jack turned back to Bitty.

"You want to watch the sunset?" he asked.

"Of course," said Bitty. He stood on his toes and gave Jack a kiss on the cheek.

"Fine," called Lardo over her shoulder. Jack took Bitty by the hand and pulled him forward. They followed their friends to Faber to watch the day end.


	10. Epilogue

On the first warm day in March, Bitty sat in his room in the Haus frantically stuffing goodie bags with last-minute items: the pennants had been on backorder and didn't come in until that morning and he needed to scrap the Wellie the Well plushie when two more recruits were added to the roster without notice. Bitty supposed he had to be grateful for the additions rather than furious that he couldn't evenly distribute swag, since they lost more players than they'd originally thought upon return to campus. Not only had Ollie, Wicky, and Johnson all been deemed unfit to play, but at the first practice of the semester, half the team failed to show up. As it turned out, Bitty's parents weren't the only ones who wanted their kids close to home.

"You need help?" Jack asked from the doorway. Bitty removed one final plushie from a bag and tossed it to the side.

"Can you get this box? I'll take the other one."

"This is way more than we've ever given any of our recruits."

"Well some of us would have appreciated a nice goodie bag," said Bitty with a huff.

"I'll give you a goodie bag," whispered Jack directly into his ear. Bitty hit him and Jack chuckled before they headed out the door and down the street toward Faber. "How'd your appointment with Dr. Montreau go?"

"Good," said Bitty. "I think I'm starting to believe him, you know? When he says we're safe now. When he says it's not my fault I had to kill -- that I had to defend myself."

"It's not your fault," said Jack. "We're here because of you." Jack leaned in for a kiss, which Bitty gave willingly, and they continued on their way. Just as they reached the concourse, Bitty overheard Lardo speaking.

"We've got a campus tour starting in a minute... if our tour guide decides to show up."

"I'm here! I'm here!" Bitty yelled. He ran down the stairs and dropped a box on one of the bleachers. "Good morning my lovely little tadpoles! My name is Eric Bittle, this here is your esteemed captain Jack Zimmermann, and we are your official Samwell Hockey hospitality representatives and unofficial Samwell University tour guides. And I brought y'all goodies bags."

Bitty distributed the bags to the eager tadpoles, some much more eager than others. "Oh wow, Jack Zimmermann," said one tadpole decked out from head to toe in San Jose Sharks clothing. After he opened the bag and saw the Samwell T-shirt, he immediately put it on over his teal hoodie. Next to him stood a confused boy with a face much too young for an incoming freshman.

"Are you a recruit?" Bitty asked.

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Tony," said Tony.

"And you're a senior?"

"Sort of," said Tony. "You see my school burned down and they just kind of… let us all graduate? Either way I can come to Samwell next year if I want."

"Huh," said Bitty. "You know, there's still time to burn down this place."

"No, Bittle," said Jack.

"You're absolutely no fun, you know that?" Bitty asked him. Jack smiled and poked him in the side before he continued to hand out goodie bags. Bitty hopped up to the top of the bleachers. "All righty, boys. We're late for our south campus pottery studio visit, but if you're hungry and want to grab a mini-pie, goodness gracious me, do  _ not _ let me stop you. And Mr. Zimmermann, you have had seven cookies already, you are  _ not _ allowed to steal them from the tadpoles!"

"He doesn't want his!" said Jack between mouthfuls of cookie. Bitty frowned at the recruit next to Jack, who blushed an even darker shade of red than his hair.

"Yo, Larissa, your other team manager is mad hyper," said one of the recruits who, along with the red-head, looked like he was actually a senior in high school.

"Oh, that's not a manager. That's Bitty. He's on the team," said Lardo.

"Really?" said the very red boy. "No offense, Mr. Zimmermann, but I figured with you here guys would be… less good at baking, I guess."

"That guy is my boyfriend," said Jack, "and none of us would be alive if it weren't for him. I'd like to see you single handedly fight your way out of an ambush." Jack picked up an empty box. "Come on, we're starting the tour now," he said. 

The very red boy, who was now nothing more than a full body blush with hair the color of campfire, lingered behind as the tadpoles made their way out of the rink. Bitty led the pack down the street, closely followed by Lardo and Jack, then the remainder of the class of 2018.

"Jack," said Bitty quietly. "I just told them to turn this way and they did! They're listening to everything I say! I can't wait to haze these boys."

"You know I never actually got initiated," said Jack.

"Really?" asked Lardo. "Bro,  _ I _ got initiated."

"I guess nobody wanted to kidnap me," said Jack with a shrug.

"Huh," said Bitty. He let Jack wander ahead and then, once out of earshot, quickly placed a hand on Lardo's arm. "Girl. We have GOT to haze him next year."

"Oh, I've so got your back," said Lardo. She held out her fist for a bump. Bitty quickly hit it and then ran several steps forward to catch up with his boyfriend. Jack took his hand, which Bitty accepted gratefully. A lot of things were different this semester, from national political platforms against the development of biological warfare to campus preparedness drills to weekly meetings with a therapist, but one thing that Bitty would never want to change was the way that Jack looked at him when they touched. Bitty turned back at the group of new recruits following in their wake.

"Okay tadpoles! This way! If you brought a camera now's the time to get it out, we're about to pass the famous well!  _ Penitus Potus _ , y'all!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Feel free to stop by [my tumblr](http://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


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